Hidden Phantom
by MiaulinK
Summary: Daniel Fenton burned away from Danny like a snake's skin was shed, in favor of a new entity. He rejected and hid his past, determined to never be found. Daniel Williams became a teacher, well-known, and well-liked by his students. He rose from the ashes of an unknown past. (No PP, Phantom Planet, that is. T for safety) Coauthor Chicaalterego!
1. Prologue

**Just so you know, I own nothing. Butch Hartman does, and so does whoever the person was who created X-Men: Evolution and the sources I'll draw from. I own the plot and nothing more (except OCs), and I guess my coauthor does as well? I got the concept, made the story until a certain point, and then she joined me, so I'm not sure how this works. Still, we can all pretend she was with me from the very beginning, since she is helping me edit my chapters, and call everything else legalities.**

Prologue: Phantom Erasure

A lonely figure flew through the green depths of the Ghost Zone. The creature, neither human nor ghost, but something in between, was but a boy of 16, with white hair and form-fitting black clothes that were torn in places and smeared in both blood and ectoplasm, held in place through memory. He had eyes filled with grief and pain, and nothing but a stubborn will to see everything end once and for all kept him going forwards when his body was begging for a well-deserved rest.

Once upon a time, the boy had been a leader, a hero, a friend and a son. He no longer felt like any of those. He had failed his town, his friends and his sister. And his parents? They were the ones who failed him.

Memories of alternative realities where Jack and Maddie Fenton had accepted their son, forgotten times when their love surpassed the obsession they had with their subject of study... those realities had long since crumbled like sandcastles built too close to the ocean. Now the happier times were gone, the memories of the past a wound that had yet to scar despite it being half a year since the day it all went to hell.

The swirling green void of nothingness was eerily quiet, not even a wisp of a ghost daring to come close to the teen whose core seemed to emanate a black aura. Unstable, dangerous. But the phantom didn't mind the loneliness, he didn't even notice it as he moved towards a medieval island that was a small fly away from Dora's.

This ghost island was very small, probably one of the smallest Danny Phantom had ever been in, and on top of it there were no more than a humble hut with a couple of grey trees. But despite the underwhelming appearance of it, that was the haunt of one of the most powerful ghosts he knew, a ghost whose fame was as great in death as it once had been on life.

Danny landed on the small piece of land, knees crumbling as soon as white boots touched the ground. He was so tired, but he stood up, right hand clutching a small red gem, his ticket to a new start.

A man in dark blue robes appeared in front of Danny, arm stretched and hand open. Danny put the gem on the waiting palm, wrinkled, green fingers curling around it. "I did my part, now it's your turn," Danny declared, both wary and desperate, getting the irrational feeling that he would be double-crossed by the ghost… Phantom needn't worry. With a nod and a look of pity, the ghost started chanting Latin phrases the halfa could barely understand. _"Amove phantasma esse argumentum, nunquam invenitur."_ roughly translated, "Remove all evidence and memory of Phantom", The one once known as Phantom smiled faintly as a wave of purple light formed in the human realm. The teen could not see it, but he could feel the power rolling and singing promises of freedom as the wizard ghost kept on chanting the words that would make sure everything about the boy, every true evidence and memories of him, was erased.

When the spell was finally over, the old ghost sagged tiredly. "It's done." Tears formed in Danny's eyes as he smiled to Merlin, Merlin smiled back. After a few moments basking in the victory Danny turned to leave the reclusive ghost. Danny would get to Dora's island and ask for a bed to crash for a day or two before going back.

"Child," Merlin called to him, Danny looked back, feet frozen in mid-step, "what do you plan to do now?".

Nobody would know about Phantom any longer, but Danny Fenton was still an orphaned minor without a guardian. In the end, Danny just gave him a wry smile "I plan to live".

 **Rewritten by my coauthor a little-to-a-lot, and based on the first version of this prologue. Remember that a review earns you a virtual cookie (and who doesn't want a virtual cookie?)!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	2. Daniel Williams

**I own nothing! This is just for the sake of legality. Mentally, I OWN THE WORLD! *Dissolves into an insane fit of laughter* I belong in Arkham...**

Chapter 1: Daniel Williams

Daniel Williams is well known at Bayville High School as a teacher. He is twenty-six, and acts like it, for the most part. He can be mistaken for younger, however, because he is a little short for a man his age, at two inches below the average height. He was about five feet, eight inches, and looks like it. As a teacher, he's well respected. As a human, not much is known. He's rather serious, and knows a lot about the subjects he teaches, and is very respectable. They don't know the half of his life, though.

He never expected to become a teacher, and had you asked him at any point in time before he went to college, and even a few months in, he would have told you he would take plumbing over teaching. That was before, however, he fell in love with every subject in the book except history and English. He was still very good at history (thanks to a certain Master of Time), but had never bothered to include English on his priorities list.

He had taken what felt like a hundred classes in a hundred subjects, ranging from algebra to trigonometry, with history, computers, languages, and science all packed between. His senior year in high school had been tough, but he'd graduated early, driven by the need to not think, to move on. Caleb had helped him face his past a little better.

While he'd never planned on becoming a teacher, it suited him well enough. He had always been quick to pick things up, and in the areas he came to love, he picked them up faster. By now, he was qualified to teach several ancient languages, all areas of math, a fair amount of science, anatomy, and some more modern languages. He had filled in for teachers in all these areas at some point in his life. Computer science had never stuck for him as well as it did for Tucker, and he'd given up on becoming an expert, though he was good enough for daily navigation.

Eventually, as time went by, Danny became Daniel, and, in a blink of an eye, he was graduating as a valedictorian with a bright future ahead.

He sometimes still wonders what Vlad would have said if he knew.

Strangely enough, he had learned that he was considered cute by some of his students. The idea was foreign to him, all of his previous teachers having been rather ugly. The only one who had been even slightly pretty had been Penelope Spectra, and she was a ghost. Besides, he'd been at the bottom of the social ladder, and standing at the top now was a little confusing.

Apparently, while shortness did make a dent, his messy hair and bright blue eyes, combined with a confidant, smooth, assured manner and walk, more than made up for it. Super hearing made up for cluelessness, and he _had_ gotten a clue later, thanks to empathetic abilities, and a growing ability to discern people's intents.

Luckily enough, with shortness did not come a lack of respect. He was a firm authority figure who knew what he was talking about, and didn't mind taking a shouting match from upset parents, convinced that their "Johnny" was perfect, that surely he couldn't be a bully, and so on. For some of the children in more precarious situations, not quite abused, but bordering on it, he was a person they could confide in, someone they could trust to keep secrets and who would offer his best advice if asked.

He is currently hurrying down the hall, balancing a pile of books that seem to tower above him. A little bit of telekinetics prevent it from toppling entirely, but his lack of a sense of balance interferes greatly with his ability to hold it straight without a great deal of concentration. That and his inability to taste anything ware the main downsides of being a halfa. He makes his way towards the office, aware that Eddy (as he sometimes teasingly calls the principal in private) will be upset with his request.

"Edward," He greeted Principal Kelly as he walked in to the office, "A family emergency just came up, and I can't teach class tomorrow. I would have called earlier, but the phone was busy. Could I please take the next three or so days off?"

"What kind of emergency, Daniel?" Mr. Kelly responds. "We have a backup teacher, but the children never listen to subs." Daniel grimaces sympathetically. They both know the rumors about the subs, so the teachers at Bayville High frequently went to great lengths to avoid calling one in. Danny was often called in for matters like that.

"My cousin is pregnant, and I need to be there. Her husband refuses to call a doctor, pure stubbornness, but insists that I help."

"Cousin? Didn't you say your family was dead?"

"Mrs. Dorthea Princebane is my _cousin_ , and, to be truthful, I was hoping I could visit her Saturday, but it turned out that she was preparing for birth when I called her, and wished for me to come anyway." Daniel responds with ease, though his expression is odd. A faint smile plays across his lips at the idea of his family, a smile with which Edward is familiar. He had learned not to press much farther when this cold, empty smile was employed.

"I believe I can let you go this once, Daniel. Be sure to come back! After all, Mrs. Darkholme went on a vacation, and never returned!" Mr. Kelly states with a smirk. It's an in-joke, and if Kelly ever leaves, it might just become a real problem.

"I am fairly certain I shall not do the same. Bayville High School isn't that bad." Daniel responds lightly. "I will return within the allotted time. Thank you, sir."

"You should hurry to class before your students arrive, I suppose. You should announce to your class the fact that you are going on vacation for a few days. And I still say you need to lighten up. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you came from a few centuries ago!"

"Yes, sir."

And because he can't help himself, he briefly drops the "sophisticated teacher" act, and bows lightly, intoning his words as though he were a butler. Kelly snorts as Daniel leaves the room, a light grin dusting his face. Coffee has that effect on him, even if the habit indicates something is wrong. He makes a note to enquire later.

* * *

Daniel walks to his class as quickly as he can, and prepares himself for the day. He has biology to teach, after all. His students walk past him, giving him smiles of greeting as he passes, if they notice him. He smiles as he spots Kurt Wagner.

"Hello, Kurt."

"Hello, Mr. Williams." Kurt responds, with a quick eye-flick to the steaming cup of coffee Daniel bears.

Danny notices that he seems anxious. "Did you get all your work done?" He asks, teasingly.

Kurt fails to realize that it's a joke. "I did, sir."

Danny feels tempted to sigh over the lack of amusement. He glances at the time, saying, "I suppose I shall see you in class," and walks off.

…

When he arrives, his science room still has a few empty seats, so he waits for the others to arrive, giving them five minutes to turn up. A rather ill-disguised rush from several girls staring out the window to their chairs fails to deceive him. He sets the crate of books in his arms down on his wooden desk with a loud thump, giving a slight grunt of effort for appearance's sake.

He greets his students with a calm, "Good morning, class. Before I start, I want to inform you all that the next class will be given by a substitute teacher which, lucky for you, means you have an extra week to work on it."

What appears to be a hint of worry rushes through them, but the prevalent emotions are happiness (especially from the ones who clearly haven't begun work on it) and horror. There are ten potential subs for Bayville High, and each has their own horrible reputation. Unfortunately, their reputations are usually better than the subs themselves, a marvel for the majority of other schools.

Within moments, a curious student's hand, equipped with pink fingernails, waves through the air. Even had he not been able to see her, he would have known it was Katherine Pryde. Only a few students wear that particular shade of pink.

"Yes, Miss Pryde?"

"Are you sick, Mr. Williams?" Kitty asks, hoping for some sort of interesting news, but expecting none. She is one of the news-spreaders, and the teachers have a theory that she's the one who somehow overhears and spreads rumors about almost anything in their lives, and any decisions they are making, no matter how impossible it seemed. Fittingly, she works with the newspaper club.

"Nothing of the sort, Miss Pryde. In fact, I am in perfect health. But I'll be taking a few days off to spend time with a cousin of mine so I can be there for the birth of her first child," Daniel states, waiting for the inevitable reactions.

On cue, a raging river of excited chatter and cooing congratulations spread amongst the majority of females in the class. The boys, on the other side, mumble between themselves things Daniel can't pick up on under the noise from the females. He lets them have a minute of chatter, but stops them with a couple of claps when the noise in the room gets too loud. He has a class to continue.

"Because I will not be here for the next few days, we will work very hard to drill any information into your head that I should prepare you for, just in case you encounter a pop quiz from the substitute teacher. How many of you have finished chapter 6 of your workbook?"

Several hands raise; it's Tuesday, so the three or four overachievers have read that chapter. One of the boys, a darker skinned one, volunteers the information that he has read all of the chapters already. "How much did you understand?" snickers another girl from across the room. It's a whisper, but he hears it over the noise. He decides that he won't punish her for that, since it's unlikely he would have been able to hear the comment were he fully human.

"Oh, there will be a pop quiz today, and I expect all of you to know about respiration, as that will be a major area in preparation for our midterm in two weeks."

A chorus of groans met Daniel's proclamation, and he ruefully shakes his head. Had he been like that at that age? Probably.

...

The class, lasting a little over an hour, goes relatively smoothly, and the students only look slightly disgruntled during the quiz, so he counts that a victory, and hopes they don't miss too many questions. It's usually a pain on the rare occasions when he uses a quiz and sees that half his class is failing on paper. He generally winds up "borrowing" them and giving a little class all over.

He hands out homework assignments due in a few days, for once he returns (he doesn't usually provide them much off-time with a sub). Finally, he leaves, planning to sprint for the lounge, eat, and leave. Unplanned, however, is his brief encounter with Kurt and Amanda, the latter having come to walk with Kurt to his next class.

They are the perfect pair, he thinks. Briefly, an image of another couple superimposes itself on the pair, a small, slightly underfed teen, and his gothic girlfriend. He pushes the thought away, though it has an immediate negative effect on his actions and mood.

"No kissing in the halls, Mr. Wagner." He declares, trying to ignore the little part of him that tells him not to 'rain on their parade'. They give him an odd look, before walking away. He turns and continues on his way, yelling at himself internally for snapping at them.

He settles in for a 30 minutes-or-less lunch break, wherein he races to the Teacher's Lounge, which is a misnomer. No lounging went on there. About a quarter of the teachers are there today, printing things off, forcing a sandwich down their throats, bustling like insanity itself. Daniel sets his books in a corner, leaves, glances around the corner for cameras, and phases into the gym.

He settles on the floor, starts to unwrap his sandwich, and is interrupted by none other than Kurt. The blue-haired teen looks worried, and Daniel realizes he's probably here for some help. It's well-known that he prefers to dine in a quiet spot.

"Mr. Williams?" The teen enquires.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Wagner?" He feels a little ashamed of his behavior earlier, and is determined to remain on his best behavior, no matter the hurry he is in to finish eating.

"Vell, I haf a question about logarithms. I know you aren't actually our math teacher, but…" His attitude is cautious. He had clearly noticed the mood Daniel was in, as today was one of his jittery-coffee days, and since he had snapped at Kurt earlier.

"I'll be glad to help you out."

As Daniel explains the little bits the seventeen-year-old doesn't understand (which there turned out to be quite a few of), a bit of small talk finds its way into the mathematical conversation. By the end, Daniel has allowed himself to spill bits of his future activities, mainly the name of the woman he'd be visiting, Dorthea Princebane, that she had a very…traditionalist family, and that she was very rich.

Kurt is openly surprised that he has relatives, since Daniel avoids talking about them. On the other hand, Daniel has learned that this rushed math lesson is due to a math test, and has to stop the lesson before it can make Kurt overdue for his class. Kurt looks rather as though he's been sent to die at the hands of Mrs. Dawkins, one of the teachers who seems to be a demon incarnate, who also happens to be the teacher he dreads most at the moment.

As Kurt starts to leave, Daniel says, "Mr. Wagner?"

Kurt glances at him, impatiently shifting, probably thinking that Dawkins will come around a corner and shoot him at any moment. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry about snapping at you and Amanda. I'm afraid today has been rather stressful, and I took it out on you and her."

A wave of awkward washes over Daniel from Kurt, but he seems to recover himself. "Err…Don't worry, Mr. Villiams. Ve all haf bad days."

"Thank you, Kurt. Could you give Amanda my apologies? I would go in person, but she's in class now, and-five minutes, Kurt! I'll try not to waylay you again. You'd better race there."

Kurt sprints away, and Daniel hears a distinct BAMF, one which he has come to associate with Kurt. He has no idea what it means, and when he had enquired, Kurt had reacted badly, so he had no longer sought after the truth in that area. He shakes his head and leaves for his truck. Dora had needed him ages ago. He should leave before he earns the full onslaught of her…draconian temper.

* * *

He reaches his house, and takes a step inside. After a moment, he waves his hand, transforming into ghost form, and forming a portal. He glides through and continues on his way, tired from the effort involved in creating a portal. He would never be as good at that as Dan had been (or Wulf was, but that didn't count, since the animalistic ghost used a different method), but he had learned how to, nonetheless. Creating even one puts a tremendous amount of strain on his core, and he is unable to defend himself against anything, incapable of anything beyond flight.

He finally reaches the castle, and the land of Aragon, now the realm of Dorthea, Queen of Aragon. While having a realm named after her brother is nothing to be happy about, Dora decided changing said name was not worth the effort.

He steps in at the door, and is admitted quickly by the guards, who easily recognize him. He is permitted into the inner chamber, where he greets Arthur Princebane, Dorthea's husband. He might have been the king, but he did not rule. He is rather more of a happy-go-lucky type, and Daniel has seen him on many an occasion participating in spars and jousting with unabated enthusiasm. With such a mental image of the man, it's startling to see him now, panicking about the screams coming from the other side of the bedroom's door.

Arthur greets him with a wringing handshake, saying, "Thank goodness you're here...I barely know what to do, and the midwives cannot come near-Dora's core is fluctuating too much; the child is twins, and her core is nearing collapse!"

"I had every intention of doing so, Arthur."

While asking for a half-ghost, _male_ high school teacher to help out during childbirth would be idiotic in most circumstances, Daniel is not your usual half-ghost teacher. First, he is the son of slightly unbalanced ghost hunters who subjected him to so many speeches on ghost physiology that he'd become an expert on ghostly anatomy by the age of ten, long before the ghost portal had been feasible, and even longer before he'd believed in ghosts.

Then, there was the fact that his superhero persona had been threatened in his presence so many times with varying versions of "ripped apart molecule by molecule". This had resulted in horrific nightmares once he'd started dissecting things in biology, made more realistic by the injuries and amateur surgeries Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and himself had been forced to use to keep him in one piece.

He prefers not to think about the other reason.

The upside? He has a terrific memory when it comes to anatomy.

He also happens to be the only one present who could safely approach the birthing mother.

Ghosts are beings that exist solely because they are too stubborn to cease to exist, so when a ghost give births and the baby being born is putting the mother's existence at risk, the mother's body tries to reabsorb the energy. While this takes place, the babies in the womb become threatened, which in turn causes the babies trying to sweep back the energy of the mother, resulting in a battle of wills that could result in Core Collapse (and thereby death) of one party or both. In this case, it seems the children are winning.

"I'll see what I can do," Phantom declares with a determined look. Arthur smiles with relief. Dora's cries of pain sweep through the halls as Danny hurries past maids and men-at-arms, sweeping into the room as the king orders the midwives to do anything Sir Phantom orders them to do.

Daniel is surprised by the sheer equanimity the king displays so suddenly, despite his anxiety. The oldest midwife, the only one who dares come close to Dora, whispers that the queen has birthed one child, but that another one yet to be born is still inside the queen's womb. Giving birth to single baby is risky for ghostly women, but two is usually a guaranteed disaster. Daniel has faith in Dora, though. _She is strong, she can do it_. He will do anything possible to stop her from ending, especially after what she'd done for him.

There are no such things in Aragon as latex gloves or sterile surgical knives (no matter what Dora had done to modernize, she had to admit she liked the medieval century), so he has to make do with what he can get his hands on. A small knife, a few sheets and a bucket of the ghostly equivalent of water to clean up the aftermath. Oh, how he wishes Frostbite were still alive, because this is going to be a mess.

With no time to hesitate as the energy continues its erratic fluctuations, Daniel makes the snap choice of making an incision he has only ever seen done in a documentary that had half of Casper High's senior year vomiting. The ectoplasmic film of skin parts and he can see the baby's dimly fluctuating core amongst the swirling vortex of unstable energy. Daniel has to act fast, since even at its most unstable, a ghost body will regenerate rapidly. He cuts the umbilical cord from the inside, then partially transforms into human so his hands can phase the baby out before it implodes or something equally horrifying, sacrificing energy of his own to both the mother and child to prevent it.

Once the source of the conflict is out, Dora's core begins to stabilize, and her open abdomen fixes itself up with a speed lightyears faster than what Danny's body can regenerate at after being thrown through several buildings.

The nurses and midwifes swarm the room as soon as the fluctuations are over, and a black haired (but still wearing his ghostly suit) Phantom hands the baby over to more expert people. He isn't a doctor by any stretch of the imagination, and a stunt like the one he pulled off is possible only because ghosts are very resilient beings. No human would have been able to survive getting open by a knife in that scenario (especially by him), and the baby inside would have decidedly died as well.

"It's a girl!" The father nearly cries joyously when his daughter is set into his arms by the maid who gave the news, slowly gaining more corporeality. There is a moment of warm family intimacy as Arthur curls up next to a very pale Dora. The queen smiles weakly but proudly. Daniel feels like an intruder and he wonders if he could ever have a family of his own one day.

The halfa is shooed out of the room immediately, though he is quite willing to leave, as Dora needs rest. Arthur is quite unhappy over being forcefully removed, even if he is given a few minutes longer, since he is the father.

The girl is named Julia and the boy, Julian. Daniel is named godfather to both, and gets to carry them almost more than he wants during the days he stays in the Zone with the couple.

The evening before his leave is over, Daniel opens a portal and goes back home. He has more quizzes to grade and several classes to plan for the day after. It is going to be a nightmare of a night, with a stack of to-be-graded items a hand's-width high, and he starts the ever-laboring coffeemaker in preparation.

 **This is what occurs right around the time of the revelation of mutantkind to humans. All evidence has been erased as to Phantom's existence. I have a picture of the family on my DeviantArt profile (Username MiaulinK), though it didn't turn out well. The price of scanning it from a drawing…**

 **-MiaulinK**


	3. Shaking World

**I own nothing!**

Chapter 2: Shaking World

Danny sat down on his couch heavily. The time he had spent away had been stressful. He reflected that vacation had become a thing to wish he could have, rather than ever actually obtain. The division in the Ghost Zone was tremendous. Pressure was building as Ghosts and Spirits attempted to reach across the ever-growing gulf between their kinds, and others tried their best to stop it. He had never wanted to intervene. In fact, he had not known about the politics of the Zone until he was seventeen, when he had first met Dorthea, as far as she was concerned. After all, she would not have remembered their close friendship. There were even debates about the name of the place. Ghosts said that it should be the Ghost Zone because they were the first inhabitants of the Zone, and thus superior. Spirits said that it should be the Spirit Zone, because they, as creatures closer to being human, in their opinion, and the fact that they could pass on, made them better than Ghosts.

Danny almost fell asleep on the couch, but forced himself to stay awake. He had classes to teach in several hours, and material to prepare. He removed himself to his desk, and ran through all the material he should have down pat before it was time to leave. Slowly he slumped forward, into slumber. Minutes later, his phone rang.

"Hello? Daniel Williams speaking." He stated.

"Hello. I really think you should look at the news, Ghost Child. As much as the petty affairs of Humans do not concern me, watching them scramble like panicking ants from up here, I realized you should think about a new occupation." Technus spoke.

"Technus, what is it, please?"

"Check your mailbox." Technus stopped speaking, and the connection was cut.

Danny walked outside to his mailbox, and opened it. Inside, entire sheaves of newspaper fell out. MUTANT FREAKS REVEALED was plastered across the front page. Danny blinked, and carried it inside. He sat on the couch once more, set his clock for 7:00am, and submerged himself in words.

The news was rather concerning. From what he could gather, a group of people had been discovered, Mutants, the newspaper called them. They had powers, and were being verbally abused currently with no filters in some areas. He abruptly came to a picture of some of his students, and learned that they were Mutants. He read faster. It listed their powers, and criticized them intensely. It reminded him of the erased reaction to his revelation of who he was during the Freakshow-and-the-Glove-of-Power incident. He remembered vaguely that someone had offered to train him, a tall, black-haired man with huge eyes who called himself Charles. He couldn't remember the man's last name. Danny continued to research until he was simply too exhausted to continue searching, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

He woke from his slumber reluctantly, glaring at his phone and begrudging the necessity that going to school was. He lifted as many of the things as he could at a time, and stuffed them into his truck. He carefully wedged himself into his seat, wondering how much worse his truck's outside would have to look in order for him to decide to repaint it. And possibly clean it. Cleaning it would probably be a good idea, before he had to start driving with the doors open, and stretchy fences to keep junk from falling out. He decided he should probably do that today. He slid out of his truck once he reached the school, grateful for the chance to escape the junk attack. He balanced a ridiculous amount of stuff in his hands, and slowly made his way through the doors, where he set all of his stuff down inside his classroom. He then proceeded to the halls, watching everyone interact.

He heard the hush fall outside, and watched, certain that the Mutants were coming. He heard Duncan tell Jean Grey that she could help him cheat, and heard her refusal. He felt proud of her. The Mutants walked past all of them, and he noticed the way they stayed so close to each other. All of them except for Kurt, who has trying to blend in with the crowd, and doing a horrible job of it. His girlfriend walked up to him and began to talk, obviously aware of the uncomfortable silence around them. He felt proud of her, too. Kurt, on the other hand, he could sympathize with more. He had, after all, been nearly the same way, except that no one else knew he had powers other than Sam, Tucker, and his sister, Jazz. He had been an expert at imitating people in an effort to blend in.

Abruptly, four familiar faces moved through the door. Danny recognized Lance Alvers, 'Toad' Tolinsky, Blob, and Pietro Maximoff. All four moved easily, with a bold confidence in their strides. A boy was eating his sandwich, probably a homemade one.

"Were you smiling? Is something funny, as in Mutant funny?" Lance abruptly grabbed the boy's shirt.

"N-no." The boy responded. Danny sympathized with him. Lance's hand made a grab for the boy's food, and inspected it, before throwing it on the ground and stepping on it. The boy drew back as much as he could. Danny noticed it looked as if the boy were about to get punched. He promptly started to move the second anything resembling a clear path existed.

"Mr. Avers, set the boy down now." Danny commanded.

"What can you do about it, _Teacher_?" The tone was mocking, and everyone was holding their breath. Lance was testing him. If Daniel didn't pass the test, Lance could essentially run free, doing whatever he wanted to do.

Danny smiled pleasantly, using his quiet, threatening tone, though not as much as he could have. "I can send you to detention for a week for threatening a student, taking his property, and destroying it. I could also assign extra homework and have you clean this mess up." He nudged the flattened sandwich with his shoe, and leveled his gaze straight into Lance's eyes, using the Look. It took a moment for Lance to respond to his command, and finally set him down. Danny informed him that he was to clean the mess up, and be careful that he got to class on time.

The boy whom he'd rescued stated, "You put that _freak_ in its place, Mr. Williams. Thanks." He spat the word, _freak_ , out.

Danny felt his mind go icy cold with anger briefly. "You will spend the next week after classes in detention with Mr. Alvers for referring to a fellow human as a Freak and an It. You and Lance will learn to at least tolerate each other's presence, and will work together on all class assignments this year. I suggest you learn how to treat other people if you plan on keeping your grades up in the behavior section of your grade in Chemistry." Daniel left the poor boy staring at his back as he swept into class, and began teaching.

* * *

Danny was certain he had never been so glad to see his bed. The Professor Xavier the Mutants talked about had wound up showing something of a live demonstration of his students' capabilities after the Four, as some had taken to calling Lance and his friends, decided to stir up trouble. Danny was thankful he didn't have to show his own powers because it would not be good for his reputation as a teacher, and he would not be able to help. That was not, of course, to say he hadn't helped. There had been little, unnoticeable things, such as tripping someone telekinetically before they could get within range of too much danger. He was relieved to get home, and proceeded to fall into bed, reflecting that more detentions had been handed out today than any other day he could remember in all of his history as a teacher. He fell asleep within seconds.

 **To popcornbubbles77:** **He didn't call Frostbite because of major issues in the political system in the Zone. He has received much training though, so he is capable as a doctor.**

 **To featherheart4248:** **He has gained a few new powers, but nothing major has changed.**

 **Reviews are nectar to the muse!**


	4. Meeting the X-Men

X-Tream Measures: Meeting the X-Group

Daniel watched as Evan Daniels walked down the street, a bit worried. Another student was playing nice, but Danny could sense that Andrew was planning something. Daniel couldn't do anything about it without proof, though, so instead he simply watched. His authority in the school was worth nothing outside of it, in terms of offering punishment, so Danny couldn't intervene with a form of punishment. He watched Andy be approached by a group of the A-Listers, and almost immediately saw through his scheme. Evans did, seconds too late, as he was given a shove, and pushed into one of the A-listers' arms as Andrew ran off. Seconds later, Danny heard the sound of spikes piercing various items around the area where Evans had been standing, and saw their release. He flinched a little as Evans ran off, looking a little panicky. Daniel started to go after him, but forced himself not to.

Daniel had been observing Evan for a long time, and he was worried. He felt certain Evan had something wrong with him, but he didn't quite know what it was. He hoped it was just teenage pressures. Danny watched the A-listers leave the scene of the crime, laughing about some joke. He decided he was going to have a talk with Evan, keep him from doing something rash, if at all he could. He wondered whether the X-Men had noticed his behavior, and decided he should go visit them. He didn't quite know whether he should call ahead, so he decided he would.

* * *

Daniel Williams drove up in a car to the mansion, a few hours after the skateboarding contest, a worried pit growing in his stomach. He'd been at the contest, and it had looked like Evan was winning. He was impressed. He hadn't realized how good Evan was at skateboarding, and an idea had popped into his head for a way to motivate Evan into doing his work better, and turning it in on time more frequently. He walked up to the door, having left the mandatory message on the phone at the mansion, and hoping they had bothered to check the messages. It was past suppertime, so he hoped he wasn't interfering with any activities they did at this hour. He rang the doorbell, and waited for someone to come to see him. It took a few minutes, but Logan came to the door, giving him a brief nod. Danny could almost swear he looked a little angrier than normal.

"Ya kin come in now." Logan stated gruffly. Was he always this odd? Danny wasn't sure.

"Thank you. My name is..."

"I know yer rep. Th' professor's in the living room."

Danny waited. He had never been here before. Logan pointed in the direction of the hall down the left, and told him to head down there, and take the first right, second left, and enter the room with a fireplace. Danny nodded, and walked in that direction, arriving in the living room rapidly. He wondered why the house had a rather gloomy air to it, rather as if someone had died.

The living room was a cozy place, spacey, but with a nice fireplace that he imagined would look very welcoming after a day in the middle of winter, and it had the kind of feel that would make you gravitate to it, even in summer. The professor was sitting in his wheelchair, and wearing a look of curiosity on his face. He looked a little troubled, and felt that way, too.

"Hello, Mr. Williams." There was an authoritative ring in his voice, tempered by the attitude of a grandfather, old, and much experienced.

"Hello, Professor Xavier. I do hope I'm not intruding, coming in at this hour of the night." Daniel adjusted his own manner, into a teacher, rather than acting the way he suddenly felt the second he walked into the room, like a child.

"Please, take a seat. You aren't intruding at all."

"Quite the place you have." Danny allowed himself to praise the room aloud.

"Thank you. Would you like something to drink?"

"No, thank you. A noise abruptly startled him.

BAMF

Danny jumped a little as a blue...thing popped into the room, a little worried.

"Did Evan come back?" The blue person had Kurt's voice, but Danny chose not to say anything yet. The figure turned around, before freezing, and pressing the watch he had on his wrist, and a crackling mirage appeared over his skin, quickly covering him in Kurt's appearance. "Teacher? Vhat are you doing here?" Kurt looked a bit frozen.

"Ahhh...I thought I recognized the voice. What was that about Evan?"

Kurt appeared to be deciding whether or not he should flee or tell Danny what Evan had done.

"I am afraid he decided to leave us. We don't know where he is, but I suspect he will not be coming back soon." The professor stated.

"I actually came here to discuss some problems Evan has been having with his homework, but I guess I came too late to help any. I should have come sooner." Danny felt a sudden rush of guilt, wondering if he could have prevented Evan from leaving. He fought it off, and realized this news definitely explained the feeling of gloom that permeated the area he was in. He winced a little at his own lame apology.

He received a remarkably kind smile. "I don't mind. It is good to know that you at least tried." _and failed_ , Danny inserted mentally.

"I...I guess I haven't really got a reason to be here then, have I? I'm sorry for wasting your time." Danny's continued apology sounded awful. "Um...Should I leave now?"

"I suppose. Goodbye." The ending was abrupt, but it had reason.

Kurt had been standing in one spot, fidgeting, probably because Danny wasn't freaking out.

"Goodbye, Professor Xavier, Mr. Wagner." He sent a nod in Kurt's direction as he left.

* * *

Daniel found himself wondering if he could ever show his face to the Professor after the horrible scene that the night had brought, wherein he had completely embarrassed himself. This, he reflected, was why he had avoided politics for as long as he could, until it simply became impossible to avoid them.

 **Short, but hard to write. Really. Sorry for not updating sooner, but trying to remember which episodes involved the school is hard. This is his first encounter with the X-Men, up close and personal. Friendship hasn't developed yet. Review this, please! I own nothing.**

 **-Miaulin**


	5. Politics and Persuasion

**I own nothing!**

 _Daniel found himself wondering if he could ever show his face to the Professor after the horrible scene that the night had brought, wherein he had completely embarrassed himself. This, he reflected, was why he had avoided politics for as long as he could, until it simply became impossible to avoid them._

Chapter 4: Politics and Persuasion

Danny was not a fan of politics. He really found himself incapable of arguing sometimes, often due to the frustrations in the places they met at. For instance, the time he'd met with his fellow politicians at Aquin Manor. It had ended in an argument that lasted for an hour. Daniel had counted. In fact, usually there were arguments. Only the length and topic varied. Currently, with attempts to build peace through the Zone (as Danny called it, to avoid taking sides) being made, or at least attempts to lay down a few ground rules, tempers were still escalating, and minor skirmishes were difficult to keep down to small numbers. Adding the Mutant issue to the list of things to talk about, made it that much more complicated. It turned out that both Ghosts and Spirits preserved previous urges from their creators, or their past life, respectively. Because of this, everyone who knew about mutants had remained silent, so the people in the Zone who knew about mutants were under pressure to spill all of the information they had.

Today, it required a full house of politicians, each out for his or her own benefit. Around the large table were Frostbite, Queen Dorthea, Zeus, Bena, and many, many others. Phantom was there. That was what Daniel called himself in his ghostly form. The Zoners knew of his status as a halfa, and some of them he had entrusted with his identity. The table wasn't so much a table as it was a long, circular, raised desk, nothing in the center, and places for a speaker to walk to that area and talk about important issues. An intense debate was taking place regarding how they should treat the mutant issue, because if they had revealed themselves, why couldn't Ghosts/Spirits? And the previously human Spirits were just as prejudiced towards Mutants as the humans. Phantom was trying to peaceably dispel the chaos. So far, it wasn't working. Suddenly, the door opened.

A tall, shifting figure walked in, gliding towards the central area.

"Stop this meaningless chatter. I understand that this has thrown your world into chaos, but it really has nothing to do with the state of affairs here. Earth matters of this sort should not bother you." The voice was calm, and reprimanding.

"Clockwork?" Phantom let the Master of Time's name pass his lips. They almost never showed themselves at these meetings. They had things to do, such as guarding the ever-flowing river that was time.

As if on cue, silence spread over the assembly. They stared as one at the floating Ghost. _Why was he here?_ The question rose in their minds. Bena was the one who commented first.

"What has the _almighty_ Master of Time come to grace us with his presence for?" She asked, a faintly mocking note in her voice.

"I haven't time to deal with this nonsense. Your assembly has far more important things to bother itself with than Mutants. I believe you were trying to work out peace?" Clockwork replied.

"But surely you can't have come here just for that?" Phantom interjected.

"You are correct. I am afraid we, the Zone, the Universal Plane, has a great deal more to worry about. Desire has gained a foothold in earth."

Several people shivered. Phantom was not among them. "What's this Desire person?" He got the feeling that he was asking something idiotic.

"Desire, Phantom, is a spirit. Like me, in fact. Neither male nor female. Desire is exactly what it sounds like. Pure, unrefined desire for anything and everything. And because life-forms always desire, it also destroys defunct life-forms to strengthen it, to feed on the life that sustains them."

"Oh. I see." Daniel decided shivering definitely counted as a valid reaction to this news.

One of their members stood up, and asked, "What are we supposed to do? And how has Desire come to earth?"

Clockwork thought for a moment. "I know very little, except that Desire has attached itself to a telepath or telekinetic, obviously a Mutant, and has probably been there for a while. I have no idea how long, or if the problem is solvable. I do not know why, or who. But I believe that it would be a good idea for Phantom, and Amorpho to head to earth to keep an eye out for possibilities. They are the ones who can blend in, and Phantom has had a civilian identity for long enough to gather information with ease. Amorpho should wonder about, search for clues. I suggest you get started quickly. I will share any information I gather, so long as it may prove useful." They swept away in infant form.

* * *

Just after the Master of Time left, the argument resumed. Daniel brought the papers he had gathered for what the various realms wanted, and so far very little progress had been made. At least some had. Danny made a note to himself to visit the Ghostwriter's library to figure out what he might need to know about Desire. He also had to write a letter to Amorpho, one of the most difficult of Ghosts to find. He was inviting Amorpho to stay temporarily with him as he got set up for life on earth. He had a feeling that things were starting to go a bit south.

 **Sorry it took so long. Getting the Desire thing worked out is taking a bit of time. Updates may be rather slow. Remember, review! I write faster that way!**

 **-Miaulin**


	6. Apocalypse Comes

**I own nothing!**

 _Just after the Master of Time left, the argument resumed. Daniel brought the papers he had gathered for what the various realms wanted, and so far very little progress had been made. At least some had. Danny made a note to himself to visit the Ghostwriter's library to figure out what he might need to know about Desire. He also had to write a letter to Amorpho, one of the most difficult of Ghosts to find. He was inviting Amorpho to stay temporarily with him as he got set up for life on earth. He had a feeling that things were starting to go a bit south._

Chapter 5: Apocalypse Comes

Daniel Williams watched the human world for Desire as well as he could, but even with his eyes open, he could still miss things. So he liked to think it wasn't his fault that he hadn't sighted Desire, and Amorpho hadn't either. Danny had managed to hold an awkward conversation with the Professor about the likelihood of a telepath not being noticed. Apparently, it was an invasion of privacy, and Daniel had been informed that he didn't need to know those things.

Sure. And saving the world had nothing to do with why he was willing to make those awkward enquiries. Danny really didn't like embarrassing himself so badly. He also didn't feel like explaining the fact that there was a Zone out there, filled with dead people and sentient emotions. And that he just so happened to be one. Yes, he could easily imagine that one ending with him in a straitjacket. So, he decided it would be a better idea to just pay attention to as many telepaths as he could, and read as much as he could about Desire.

He noticed that Anna-Marie appeared to be having some problems, but it was with her powers so he chose not to intervene. Then she turned into a giant person named Sabretooth (seriously, please tell him his parents hadn't named him _that_ ), with terrible tooth problems. How he know it was Anna-Marie? Well, he could feel her emotions. She had a distinct, oddly mixed set of them. He guessed it was due to her abilities. Not much happened, except that she got a break from going to school. And after that? She came back, relatively fine, but still, not in the best of mental shapes.

More stuff happened. It occurred to him that Marie could be Desire, because she could absorb telepathic abilities. And then it hit him that there might be more people like Marie, who could absorb other telepaths' powers, and life got that much more complicated. He felt like he would soon have a near-constant headache. He'd finished getting together most of the various leaders' opinions in how to make peace, so he and some friends were working on laws to propose for a loose alliance. Actually, the peace just consisted of rules all parties concerned had to play by. And then graduation at Bayville High struck.

* * *

As Daniel Williams sat, watching his students graduate, he felt proud of them. He remembered when he'd graduated, just barely. He'd forged a lot of his grades, turning in false scores for the part of his life that Daniel Williams had no records of, everything from his birth documents to his tenth grade scores. Then, he finished high school early, inside of a year, because, in an effort to avoid thinking about the deaths that occurred because of him, and the traumatic experiences he'd had in the lab, he'd focused. Hyperfocused. He knew it wasn't healthy, but even now he still did it at times.

His graduation had not been celebrated. He had schooled himself, and he had made A+ scores, but it hadn't stopped the cycle of depression. He'd nearly been hospitalized for attempting suicide, but he eventually got over that part. He couldn't say he was totally over the depression. It still weighed him down, and he still woke up screaming, but he could rely on his work to keep him occupied, and his dreams, while they still came almost every night, were less intense. Or maybe he had simply become desensitized.

After that, he had finished college, once again early. Very early, and with the highest grades possible. Then, he became a teacher. People were at first a little surprised about how young he was, and distrustful, because how could a young man like himself be any use, or capable of maintaining discipline? He got his first job (as a teacher, anyway) at Bayville, and he'd stuck with it. He wouldn't have gotten the job had it not been for his friend, Robert Kelly. He was still lonely sometimes, but having children helped with that. Well, he didn't have children, but his students were almost the same thing. He didn't really have many human friends but he managed well enough.

He jerked his attention back to the graduation at hand as he heard Mrs. Munroe say something that even at that distance he could hear, despite the fact that it was almost whispered.

"Looks like the forecast is improving" she commented.

"Yes, I think even principal Kelly would have to appreciate your mutant abilities today, Storm." The Professor responded with a smile.

Danny couldn't help but grin a little. The weather had been predicted to be rainy, but it was wrong. Who knew it was because Ororo decided the day of the graduation should be a fine day? It was a little ironic, because Robert had been complaining about how it might rain, and now he had a mutant to thank for no rain, despite his strong dislike of them.

Principal Kelly's speech began. "Welcome! I think back to the first time I spoke in front of you. Change was the theme then, and it has never been more important than it is today. So, as you go out into this rapidly changing world, it is essential that you take control of your futures. You may look across from you and see students who have certain advantages over you. Don't be deterred. Any disadvantage _can_ be overcome. You _can_ prevail. We _can_ …Oh, _no_."

The principal looked behind the crowd with an annoyed and fearful gaze, and, quite naturally, everyone turned around to figure out what he was seeing. Danny saw a group of mutants, the Acolytes, he'd heard them called. Mortimer "Toad" Toynbee was with them. They were walking straight towards the ceremony. Just about everyone took off in a panic.

Kelly almost yelled, "Everyone, please remain calm and exit the field as quickly as possible." As if that was working.

Danny heard Pietro say, "Not so fast, Rogue." And a moment later, Rogue had been moved to stand just in front of the Acolytes. The X-Men had grouped together before the ceremony, so they were still close to each other. Kurt Wagner had also teleported them to just below the football goal post.

Suddenly, Marie's eyes moved upwards in an almost lazy motion, and chairs began to spin around her. Danny saw a vague glow in the corner of his eyes, but ignored it in favor of the sight in front of him.

"Magneto, explain yourself." The Professor commanded.

"The girl is under Mesmero's control, Charles. She attacked us to absorb our powers, then wiped our minds with his power to cover it up." Magneto declared. Danny wondered who on earth Mesmero was. Whoever he has, he sounded like a telepath.

"What proof do you have?" was Charles's response. He clearly didn't want to believe it.

"My surveillance cameras. They captured it all." Magneto said. It was at this point that Marie rose into the air, and, with a movement of her arms, dispersed the various objects surrounding her. The various groups barely fended off the flying chairs, but each in their own way. Then, she flew away into the clouds.

"Mutants have terrorized this world long enough! Someone has got to stop them." Principal Kelly declared. He'd clenched his fist tight, and crouched behind his podium, watching the scene.

A moment later, the Professor started giving orders. "Logan, track Rogue."

"Got it." Logan responded.

"You two, go with him" Magneto ordered, looking at the one called Gambit and Sabretooth.

"No." Sabretooth growled.

Logan added, "I don't need their help."

Charles stated, "Logan! You two must put it aside. There's too much at stake."

The two growled, just barely audibly. Danny hoped this whole Mesmero/Marie thing wasn't something too big, because right now it sounded fairly small, just a case of mind control, right? Surely a telepath could handle that.

"What're you doin' still here, Mr. Williams?" Logan clearly decided he needed someone to take out some misplaced aggression on.

Danny nearly rubbed the back of his neck. "Err…I was wondering what in the…on earth was going on." He managed to stop himself from saying Zone.

"Nothin' ya need t' bother yerself about." Logan responded to that one.

Danny debated with himself briefly, before forcing his mouth to move, against all of the rest of his mind that was currently yelling at him for doing what he was about to do. "Do you…need any help?"

"No, Mr. Williams. I don't believe you can help. This is something only we can deal with." Danny felt pretty sure that the Professor was talking about mutants, and he gave in, a bit relieved that he wouldn't have to do anything that would show his abilities.

"Alright. Good luck." Danny turned around and left the area, quickly and quietly, leaving some very confused mutants behind him. _What kind of human offers to help us? Or tells us good luck?_ He was almost certain they were thinking.

* * *

The next day, stunning news greets Danny's eyes. It is plastered across the headlines, even on the computer.

POWERFUL MUTANT APOCALYPSE RELEASED

Could This be the End?

By Leslie Burner

In a shocking turn of events, the mutant population has finally proven how dangerous they are, when they unleashed a menace on our society, one that they call Apocalypse. He used to be called En Sabah Nur. They themselves admit that he was too powerful for them, and if he was, what business did they have freeing him in the first place?

The article basically went on about how this new mutant would be the end of the world, and the title pretty much told Danny what to expect. School was out, and Danny finally finished updating his knowledge on the world at large, so he could form a portal to the Zone and read up, see if there were more mentions of Desire, and even see about Apocalypse. Who knew? Maybe he'd find something important.

 **Like it? Hate it? Read and review it! Thanks! Sorry if it seems a bit filler-ish, but I am working on how Danny's relationship with the X-men will work.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	7. Developing Relationships

**I own nothing!**

 _The article basically went on about how this new mutant would be the end of the world, and the title pretty much told Danny what to expect. School was out, and Danny finally finished updating his knowledge on the world at large, so he could form a portal to the Zone and read up, see if there were more mentions of Desire, and even see about Apocalypse. Who knew? Maybe he'd find something important._

Chapter 6: Developing Relationships

Daniel liked to think that he was useful on some level. He had a feeling that that was the main reason the X-men didn't mind him, usually. He didn't try to interfere, and he was nice to them. Not to mention, it was almost always a good idea to be friends with the man who's educating your students. The first time they actually met outside of a student-teacher or teacher-parent type setting, unless one counted the graduation debacle, was the dedication ceremony for the Bayville Zoo.

The Brotherhood had been rescuing people, and Danny couldn't help but think that that was suspicious, because the accidents were too convenient. Each member of the Brotherhood showed up when and where he was needed. The only one not seen was Wanda. The Brotherhood, due to their recent good deeds, was preforming the ceremony, and it felt like everyone who could afford it in Bayville was there. Even Duncan, who'd decided to join a mining crew, was there.

Danny was closely watching the scene as suddenly, everything went wild. He wasn't sure in what order things happened, because he hadn't been paying much attention. At any rate, the meeting was (obviously) a bit chaotic, and he wound up helping several people get up afterwards.

Scott had quite the nasty cut, and the teachers hadn't chosen to come. As a result, Daniel wound up volunteering to stitch it up, and Scott, with a slightly suspicious look, consented. Danny quickly applied some anti-pain and antibiotic cream, giving it a few seconds, before stitching it.

Scott initiated the conversation with an awkward, "Mr. Williams, why _are_ you willing to help me? I'm a mutant."

If that wasn't an awkward line to start a conversation with, Danny didn't know what was. "You were a student of mine, and I fail to see a reason as to why I shouldn't." Danny kept his response short and simple. No need to complicate the matter, especially to explain the fact that not treating him, just because he had super-powers, would be hypocritical.

"Thanks…" There was another awkward pause as Danny finished stitching Scott, and began bandaging his arm. "Why are you so good at sewing people up?"

"I used to get injured rather frequently when I was younger," Danny didn't mention that more than half were caused by ghost fights, "and I haven't lost the skill, or stopped practicing, yet."

Scott looked rather relieved when Danny finished bandaging his arm, and stood up, looking uncomfortable. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't worry. If you need any help, all any of you need to do is call. Try not to pull any of the stitches."

Then they exchanged their goodbyes and the X-Kids left, leaving Danny a little lonely, but feeling better for having helped them.

After that, Danny assumed that he wouldn't be called again, but he was wrong. Katherine Pryde wanted driving practice. Apparently, even though it had been already been a few months since she got her permit, she had completely terrorized everyone with her driving. _No one_ wanted to take her anywhere. Scott had told the Professor about Danny's offer to help if they needed anything, and lo-and-behold, what they needed was someone who hadn't experienced the horror caused by Kitty's driving. So Danny became the victim.

At least he went into this with some warning. What warning being informed that Kitty's driving could give people major adrenaline rushes gave him, and a comment Logan made. Something about the fact that phasing through anything in her path did not make her an expert driver at avoiding obstacles, and that she was to avoid killing Danny from a heart attack. It wasn't particularly reassuring.

This was why he was holding on for dear life (or half-life) as Kitty proceeded to phase straight through the gates leading to the mansion before they fully opened. He did try to keep her from running into anything, and so far it was working, though it might have been because he was pretty sure she was still phased out. Finally, she slowed down when Danny informed her that there were often speed-traps near where she was driving. Yes, he was stretching the definition of near, but Kitty didn't need to know that. She slowed down, obeyed the laws, and allowed Danny to keep her from doing too many terrifying things. He also instituted a no-phasing rule, under the slight stretch that phasing made him feel sick. It used to, but now, it didn't bother him at all.

They didn't get stopped, and when she got back Danny hoped she remembered some of the information he'd given her. He was pretty sure she did, at any rate. When he stumbled out of the car, he had a new appreciation for Mrs. Munroe, who had taken Kitty driving and not unleashed a torrent of rain or other weather catastrophe during the entire ordeal. Not that he'd been terrified past the first minute or so, because after that the adrenaline wore off, due to the fact that he'd been in far more hazardous situations than this one. Logan was Charles Xavier was waiting at the door with several students and teachers, apparently all of them curious how he'd taken to the drive.

Little did he know that it had been one of their rarer forms of entertainment to watch Kitty break new people in. He did feel their amusement, however. It was impossible for him, an empath, not to feel it. Several of them were obviously waiting for him to rant about never wanting to take Kitty on another drive again. Instead, he paused a moment, and then stated, "Well, Katherine definitely compares with my father's driving." This was very true, even if it took an effort for him to make the "Father" pass his lips. He got a grin, or maybe a disappointed pout from several students over his casual response.

"Can I, like, do that again? Everyone else freaks out! It isn't like my driving is _that_ awful, right?" Kitty looked excited.

"…" Danny chose the safer path, the one where he let her conclude from his silence the answer to her question.

"Please?" Kitty added possibly the most convincing puppy-dog eyes he'd ever seen, next to Sam when she was in desperate straits.

"I survived this round, and you'll need a license at some point, so I might as well, considering I have very little else to do with my summer." The summer was a time of year he'd come to dread, because with summer came a rush of memories, due to the fact that he had little to do except think. He didn't like to remember, so he instead chose to find almost any method of distracting himself. This would work quite well.

After that, he began to see the X-men more often. He came over every Tuesday to take Kathrine driving, and he found himself talking to them a fair amount. Listening to the various teachers and determining their thoughts on various topics became a fun activity. He supposed it was entirely accidental, but he became fond of his visits to them, and looked forwards to Tuesdays more than any other day of the week. It was interesting to listen to them talk about what they knew about Apocalypse, and Danny tried to help a little.

His method of helping consisted of travelling into the Zone and getting books. He found myths about Apocalypse, and when asked where he obtained all this information, he grinned and told them he had sources. And _boy_ , did he have sources. It was funny, the first time he summarized information, and plunked it down in front of the teachers at the institute. They had stared at him as if he'd suddenly begun stealing, or something. Daniel might have become friends with them, but it didn't mean he did everything for them. He did help Rogue start to attempt getting her license, however, as soon as he was finished with Kitty.

Eventually, he allowed himself to share small details of his life, such as the fact that Dora had made him the godfather of her twins. Their godmother was Edwina Gerrick. Of course, Danny would have loved to be able to show pictures, but that would be revealing too much. They were surprised to learn that Danny had a little to do with politics, though in what way, or where, they didn't know.

Apocalypse was finally sealed away, and life was temporarily back to normal. On the surface, at any rate. School would be starting back soon, and Principal Kelly was now running for the position of senator, so they were working to elect a new principal. So far, a man named Gideon Wright was probably going to be principal, and it was probably (almost certainly) going to turn into a running joke, how quickly Bayville High School went through principals. Kelly wasn't making much progress in his run for office due to his extremist anti-mutant agenda, but things were changing.

A pen hovered over briefly over the outside of a box as the man holding the pen debated within himself. To send or not to send? Blueprints filled the inside of the thick box. He finally made the decision, and wrote the address he was sending it to, careful not to write his name anywhere. Maybe this wasn't how he planned on destroying those mutants at first, but he didn't need to do things the way he'd planned. Hell, he never planned on teaming himself up with politicians, but it had to be done.

He handed the package to the boy who sometimes came to visit him in his self-imposed exile, carrying letters sometimes, and, upon occasion, sitting down to listen to the stories he could tell. He'd never enjoyed manipulating people, but it was the only thing he could do since Director Nickolas Fury made him promise not to interfere with mutants. Here, in the shadows, he had finally accepted his talent for manipulation, and it was likely that nobody who could stop it would realize what he was doing until it was _far_ too late. It was unfortunate, but humans needed to be saved from themselves.

 **Yes, this feels very filler-ish, but I needed to get the story's pace moving, and this is what I wound up doing. Soon, I will go back to dialogue, but I needed to establish things that were going on, so this is the result. The X-Men are on friendly terms with Danny, but they still barely know anything about him. Read and review, please!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	8. Assassination

**I own nothing!**

 _Here, in the shadows, he had finally accepted his talent for manipulation, and it was likely that nobody who could stop it would realize what he was doing until it was far too late. It was unfortunate, but humans needed to be saved from themselves._

Chapter 7: Assassination

Maybe the former Principal Kelly never would have begun to gain popularity if it weren't for a few things. Simple things, really, but ones that had massive impact on the world. Maybe it was because, on October 31, something happened.

The masked man slipped his hand into his pocket, taking out the gun he held in his hand. He'd be paid well for this. One million dollars from a gentleman who was anonymous, just to complete a task that was simple for the master assassin. He loaded the gun and strapped it to his wrist, before he would venture into the place he was headed, 114 Main Street. It wasn't hard to avoid being seen by the cameras, or avoiding being seen by the people.

People were amazingly unobservant when they didn't want to see something. He knew this, and used it to his advantage. It was Holloween, so seeing a man in a mask wasn't particularly alarming. He picked the lock of the door, carefully venturing into the main room. Clearly, Graydon Creed was a man of vast wealth, and from his speeches, a man of bitter hatred for any mutant, or for anyone who opposed him, not that it concerned the man in question, who called himself Eel. It had been his nickname when he was younger, and it described him well.

A quick glance around the room he was in revealed a few doors, and he chose one. The farthest one, he could hear voices coming from its direction. He walked through, blending with the shadows, and listened closely. It was just a phone call, but he wanted to wait. If Creed's death were known before Eel got away, Eel might get caught. The man finally hung up, and Eel allowed himself to edge into the doorway, slowly raising his hand. Eel cleared his throat sharply. Now came the best part.

Creed shouted, "Go away! I have business to do!"

Eel didn't answer right away. Instead, he waited for Graydon to turn around, irate at being interrupted. Graydon did after about ten seconds, and froze as he spotted the pistol attached to the wrist in front of him, aimed right at his chest. He slowly raised his hands, trying for a professional air, as Eel finally said, "Yes, you do have business to do, but I'm afraid it will have to wait."

As Eel said this, Graydon realized the seriousness of the situation, and changed in seconds from an alarmed businessman to a trembling coward. "Who…who are you? Who sent you? What do you want?" Eel considered answering, but decided against it. Instead, he grinned, and moved closer. "I'll give you anything! Don't kill me!" Eel smirked. It was always fun to listen to the people he killed plea for their lives.

He almost didn't say a word, because it was much more amusing to be silent. However, he had been payed to say some things, so he opened his mouth and let the words flow out with acting skills he'd accumulated over the years. "Graydon Creed, for opposing our species, _Homo superior_ , I sentence you to death, by order of Nelson Raymond. I hate to do this to you, but you have become far too dangerous to survive."

He smiled, and carefully pulled the trigger. A stream of red light poured out of his right hand, hitting the man in the chest, and leaving a gaping hole in it. Graydon never even had time to scream.

Bullseye.

He would be paid well for this.

It was on the news. It was shocking, stunning. Graydon Creed hadn't been very advanced in his project, a potential mutant detector, one of the first. He'd made it fairly obvious from the start that he'd dreamed up military usage of it. Not that he announced it. Instead, his anti-mutant speeches and sentiments were well-known, and it was simply a logical solution for nearly anybody to reach.

No matter how far he'd made it, and despite the fact that it wasn't fully finished, a mutant had killed him. There was even footage of the man who did it. All that could be seen of him at the angle the camera viewed him at was the suit and the flash of red light his hands produced as he fired.

The second the news hit the press, it was like someone had set anti-mutant hysteria a notch higher. It wasn't as if school hadn't been stressful for some mutants, but now everyone suspected any mutant they saw to be the assassin. A few mutants even proclaimed that the nameless assassin was an example to follow. It wasn't hard to see why, and Mr. Kelly got bodyguards. Everyone began to vote for him at the voting booths, and his popularity went up by thirty-four percent. He was well on his way to office, and he had plans.

Danny himself was busy trying to retain his role as a teacher at the high school, but for the most part, he was left alone, having been a teacher for six years. He was worried, because nobody had found Desire, and he had suspicions. Things had started popping, but he didn't want it to be true. He was almost certain of it though.

Jean Grey had begun to experience power bursts, and he had been caught in one of them. She had been badly upset by something, what, nobody knew for certain. But as the power burst hit, he had felt a familiar cold rush of mist pass his lips, warning him of ghostly or spiritly influence. The sheer power of the surge sent him back against the wall. Jean calmed down on her own, but she was starting to radiate an ectoplasmic aura, something that made her slightly more noticeable for someone with a ghost-sense. Before, due to her telepathic barriers, he had been unable to sense her mental presence, but now, he could detect her spiritual presence.

He still wished that it wasn't her, but he was very sure of his assessment. He didn't tell anyone yet, instead spending his time looking up ways to destroy Desire without destroying the human vessel. So far, it wasn't working. There were guesses, hoped-for information, even a few incredibly risky schemes for it. One of the riskier ideas involved the use of blood blossoms. He was pretty sure that would kill Desire, but it would probably kill the human. At this stage, Desire was too weak for anything except the occasional energy boost, and it was incapable of controlling Jean, but it would only get stronger as the pressure on Jean rose.

Maybe he could work something out. But at this rate, it might be centuries. Going through the Ghostwriter's library was…difficult. Difficult here was defined as nearly impossible, because, as much as the Ghostwriter had an organization system, he had millions, billions of books. He had a copy of every book in the world, and more were appearing all the time. It had to do with his obsession, but Danny remained unsure as to exactly what that obsession was.

It had taken a very long time to find the sections of the library he needed, and it took even longer to find and read through the first potentially helpful book. Most seemed to base themselves in diagrams, and he was trying artifacts for possession. He knew that the old man who'd helped him into his new identity, Merlin, Embodiment of Magic (there was also a Morgana, but she had a different title) might could have helped, but he wasn't powerful enough. Maybe the Ancients could have done it, but nobody even knew if they still existed.

That aside, things were getting serious, and he hadn't told the politicians he met with about this development. He didn't want to be assigned the job Clockwork had been given by the Council of Observants so long ago, to get rid of (kill) the risk factor, and hang the consequences. He'd learned that, if this course of action were followed, the Disasteroid incident would have still occurred, and Earth would be destroyed, along with part of the Zone. He had come close, during that incident, to revealing his secret identity, but he had escaped by a hair's-breadth.

He kept his eyes open, and watched for alternatives. If he found a solution to this problem, the only issue would be getting the X-men, or even just Jean, to trust him enough to let him use his knowledge. It was impossible, after all, to use the same solution he'd experienced via Clockwork, because the pressure might release the personality she didn't even know she was suppressing. In the end, for now, his actions consisted of research, and hints. Hints that would hopefully alert Jean to her second personality.

 **Like it? Hate it? Review it! The Jean/Phoenix problem was hard to work out, because at first it was just a way to keep something going in the chapters, but in the end, it (pardon the joke) mutated. It changed into an idea, and idea that didn't really tie in with the rest of my story at first, but it is now pretty important. Also, I would really like to know if you want more of any particular character's POV (Point Of View). I might add a little bit of that later. Maybe some Jean stuff.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	9. Jean Grey's Voice

**I own nothing!**

 _He kept his eyes open, and watched for alternatives. If he found a solution to this problem, the only issue would be getting the X-men, or even just Jean, to trust him enough to let him use his knowledge. It was impossible, after all, to use the same solution he'd experienced via Clockwork, because the pressure might release the personality she didn't even know she was suppressing. In the end, for now, his actions consisted of research, and hints. Hints that would hopefully alert Jean to her second personality._

Chapter 8: Jean Grey's Voice

When I was three, I noticed voices sometimes. No, not voices, a Voice. It told me what to do sometimes. I once walked out into the street, and the Voice was the only thing that warned me not to. It made me get back onto the sidewalk before anything bad could happen. As I grew older, things happened, odd things, and the Voice stayed with me. It wasn't so much a voice as a feeling, but I thought of it as a Voice. I didn't really give it much thought. After all, didn't everyone else have something to tell them not to do something?

It never really bothered me, and I never told anyone about it. I don't really know why. Maybe it didn't want me to. Whatever the case, it was my friend. It helped me get what I wanted sometimes, and always kept me safe. At least, it kept me safe until Anne.

That day, we were playing Frisbee out in the yard. It was Anne's birthday, and we were both having a lot of fun. Her cake had been white, with green frosting on the edges, and a pink "Happy Birthday, Anne" on it. We made it together, so it was a mess. Still, we were proud of it. It was hard to tell ten-year-olds that a cake looked awful, even though it did. Anne unwrapped her presents, finding all sorts of fun toys, including a green Frisbee. Green was her favorite color, and she was really pleased with it. She got a puppy, too.

"You should play with the Frisbee now, before Hazel gets it!" Anne's mom told us, because she knew that if Hazel, the puppy, got it, it would be chewed up completely. I put on some boots, because it had rained yesterday, and it was still wet and muddy in the dips. The fresh smell of rain was impossible to resist, and we raced outside, ready to play. Of course, the shoes were for appearance's sake only. Anne had done the same, and we walked around to the back of the house, taking off our boots again. The mud squelched between our toes, cold as ice to our still-warm toes. I gave Anne a mischievous look, and we took off for the part of the yard where we wouldn't be observed by the adults.

She tossed the Frisbee first, and I didn't quite manage to grab it, instead falling flat on my face in the mud. Anne helped me up, and we both ran to get the Frisbee back. I beat her, just barely, and waited for her to get back further away. Then, I threw it. She caught it, but the unexpected force I had put into it made her fall on her back. I giggled, and waited as she got up again. We continued to throw it, each time more accurately, until I finally caught it, and gave myself a cheer.

Then, I curled my arm, and threw it as high and hard as I could. It soared over the edge of the sidewalk, and into the well-worn road. We both watched it quietly. Our parents had told us to _never, ever_ go out into the street. My Voice was warning me to not do it, and to let Anne retrieve it. I ignored it, and ran to the side of the road, stopping before the curb. There was a really big curve before our house, and it made it hard to see any cars, but neither of us saw anything coming, so we finally ventured out into the road. The road was so low that it had pools of water and mud. Worms lay on the surface, avoiding the soaking earth at all costs. Grass had washed out into some parts, and it required a bit of maneuvering to reach the frisbee, which was floating on the surface of a shallow pool.

Anne and I each made a grab for it, hoping to be the first to reach it, and therefore, the first to throw it. Anne's hand closed around it triumphantly, and gave me a smirk. Suddenly, we heard a roaring sound. We both whipped around, and saw a huge, to our minds, black car, swerving around the corner. I grabbed Anne's hand, and we ran, fast as we could. The car was weaving back and forth, and we had almost made it, when Anne slipped, nearly carrying me with her. I froze after I reached the side of the road, my momentum the only thing that kept me from standing still in the middle of the street.

I tripped as I hit the curb, and turned around. The black car was bearing down on her. I could see what was going to happen, and I was unable to do anything about it, except stare, and wish I were there instead of her. I felt a sharp pain within my head, like a nail I'd stepped on once, and _the car was in front of me. Coming closerclosercloser, shiny metal reflecting the sky, and terrorbonechillingspineshiversterror. I saw the girl on the curb, half turned, eyes glazed, face almost as paniccoldstomachicy as I felt. My gaze went back to the car, something coming too close. Mama says that nothing will ever hurt me, she'll always protect me. Daddy promised, too._

 _They're wrong, and the car is a few feet away. I try to stumble to my feet, but they're so still and numb from the cold mud. I'm kneeling, almost to my feet. I'll be out soon. I can play with Hazel, and I'll nevereveronceinalifetime go outside into the street again. Crushing impact and I feel no pain, just a jolt, before the pain really starts. The breaks are on, I can hear them screechingscreaming like me. Am I? My mouth is open, and my mind is screaming, but I don't think my mouth is screaming with me._

 _I feel the ground, like carpetburn, but harder, like sandpaper on my hand, I've done that. There's a jerking sensation, and my body is being pulled apart. I can hear things popping inside me, and the frisbee's broken. My head hits the ground, and for a second I feel something, pressure on my skull. Things cracklepop and I barely see the tread of a wheel as it presses against my ear, before the pain is unbearable and gone and I'm floatingdriftinglostscared._

I'm confused. Where am I? Why is it so dark? A Voice comes to me in the dark, calling for me. It is familiar, and I see something. I don't know how long it has been dark. A flicker, flame, warming me from my fingertips, waking me.

"Wake up! Disconnect. Jean, you aren't dead" It takes me a while to understand the message, and filter it through the voices that aren't my Voice. I can feel the sensation of life, sort of a sensation I've never noticed before. A sort of tingly electrical-warm feeling, pinprickles of pain, just barely noticeable. I want to wake up, and wanting to wake up is what gives me a jolt, pushing me into the realm of light. Because that is where I am, and the walls are white as Mom's napkins. I am on a bed, and I lay there, struggling to think, because I've never realized how noisy places are. I watch as Mom and Dad stumble in, looking spent.

 _/I hope our baby girl's gonna wake up soon./_

 _/Nearly gave me a heartattack. What the fuck was she doing in the road?/_

I recognized the word. Mom always glared at anyone who used it around me, and I'd only heard it a few times, but I knew it was something bad to say, so I said something. "Daddy, we're not supposed to say that!"

Dad froze, before suddenly rushing forward with Mom, and enveloping me in a hug. I felt safe. Daddy didn't do anything other than offer a confused look when I responded to his though that one time, without ever realizing it.

/

I think that it was because of other incidents around the house that he searched for psychologists, before being directed to one, named Charles Xavier. He was famous for his work with tough cases, and admired by his colleagues. He had a wheelchair, and he was nice. He seemed to think this was a fairly regular case, until I did something I had been working on. When I focused really hard, I could hear things other people couldn't. I tried it on him, because it was both terrifying and fun. I knew what had happened to Anne, and why I was her. It was because of this.

From the second I gave a little push, the man turned around as suddenly as a penny can drop. His eyes were wide, and he looked stunned. I tried not to flinch, and succeeded. After all, nobody else knew I could do this; why should he be any different?

I was wrong, and within a month, I was living with him, struggling to understand the nature of my mutant gifts, as I learned to call them.

It was a long time before I began to hear the Voice again, though it subtly guided my actions. It kept me safe from harm, and kept my powers in check. It wasn't until I was seventeen that a power burst was released. I learned to control that, piece by piece, and life went on. It wasn't until Apocalypse that I realized that something was wrong. I blacked out once, twice, and each time, destruction surrounded me. The Voice assured me it was keeping me safe, and I chose to believe it.

Blackouts continued, and my telekinesis and telepathy vastly improved. I kept in control, even though the Voice became louder, because I was me and it was part of me, right? During this time, Mr. Williams, our science teacher, began to act oddly. He watched me constantly, worriedly. Even more odd, he paid closer attention when my Voice was speaking. But he obviously didn't know about it, right? He was very unusual, because he refused to treat us unequally, between us and the humans, I mean. He did tend to snap a little more at Kurt and Amanda than necessary, though. Nobody knew much about him, but I didn't really think about it myself.

 **Hi! This is your friendly neighborhood writer! I hope you like my Jean POV chapter. Please remember to tell me what you think!**

 **-MiaulinK** __


	10. Mornings and Missions

**I own nothing! Also, the part where I mention physics, fill in the blank with whatever you want him to explain. I'm still in Biology, so I have no idea what Physics is about.**

 _During this time, Mr. Williams, our science teacher, began to act oddly. He watched me constantly, worriedly. Even more odd, he paid closer attention when my Voice was speaking. But he obviously didn't know about it, right?_

Chapter 9: Mornings and Missions

Danny wasn't properly aware when, at 6:00 in the morning, his wrist watch's alarm went off. His wrist watch, like other people's watches, had a quiet beep for an alarm. Unlike most people, though, this slight beep was enough to wake him up, due to years of hyper-vigilance as a teen, and into his early twenties. Not to mention, he found it useful to always remain alert to even the smallest of sounds.

He was staying at the X-Mansion temporarily, because he had come to visit with every intention of not staying long, while explaining an important scientific concept, but he had become sidetracked by the delicious smell of cooking. Too bad for him it was Kitty's cooking. At least he also had experience in the fine art of offering a poker face. He finished the muffin, despite the disbelieving stares he received from Kurt, who appeared to be in a state of shock. Sure, the muffin was really hard, but it was edible.

On the bright side, dinner, a better one, was finished being prepared soon afterwards. He ate there, before he began his teachings in the area of physics. It was a late dinner, and he stayed there for a bit longer than necessary, just for the sake of observing Jean and holding conversations. Unfortunately, it was in mid conversation that a week of almost no sleep caught up with him. It started with a couple blinks, and trouble keeping his eyes open, and progressed from there.

He started to leave before he could fall asleep on the couch, but the Professor, whom Danny had been conversing with caught the minute stumble when he got up, and the sleepy blinks. Danny was offered an invitation to sleep there, and he tried to refuse, out of politeness, but was thankful when he was pressed to accept, because he wasn't certain he could have stayed awake during the drive. Eventually, he accepted, a little sheepishly, and apologizing the entire time for intruding.

From there, it took only a few minutes for his eyes to close. He remained sitting, but his head drooped onto his chest, and he fell fast asleep, exhausted, and resolving that he was going to avoid staying up for as long as he had recently, even though he knew he would do it again, as well as he knew his name was Daniel Fenton Williams. He didn't dream, an aspect he liked of his sleep avoidance, a fact that seemed to arrange itself around how much he slept, because his nightmares, if they came, rarely let him return to sleep. He slept for several hours.

Then his wrist watch's alarm went off at the time he'd set it for, 6:00am. His instinctive reaction to the alarm, what most people would consider a minor noise, was a bit overreactive. He shot awake inside a millisecond, head whipping up, and barely stopping an involuntary jump to his feet, because he had gotten a new watch recently, and he still wasn't used to the alarm's sound. His hand came down hard on the top of his watch, and he was extremely glad that it didn't break. It took a few moments for him to regain his orientation.

A few blinks, and he realized where he was, on a couch, draped slightly over one arm, with a blanket on top that he didn't remember putting there. Someone probably had put it on him when he was still sleeping too deeply to waken, even for something physically touching him. His heart rate was up a little, and he made a mental note to play his alarm more often, so he wouldn't one day crush it if he was startled by it.

Logan and several other teachers and students were wondering around, and Daniel was getting a funny look from several of the super-hearing-empowered ones, especially Logan, who was eating next to him on the couch, chewing on what appeared to be a large, only half-cooked steak. How he was capable of eating so much at such an early hour could only be because of his metabolism, because everyone else except Hank was eating more reasonable foods, such as pop tarts and toast.

Logan was staring at him, as if trying to figure out why Daniel woke so abruptly and violently from a simple beep. Danny offered a sheepish smile, a bit annoyed at his stupid reflexes. He needed to work on it, preferably until they weren't obvious. He was tempted to continue sleeping, just a few more hours, but the fact that it was Friday meant that he had school lessons to prepare. Time to get up, he told himself as he stumbled off the couch, nearly tripping over his blanket, before folding it up as neatly as he could, and asking where he should put it.

He was told that they would put it up, but he insisted, and wound up putting it in the public blanket cabinet. Actually, it was more like a giant box, ugly, but serving the purpose. Danny stuffed it in with a lot of effort. The blanket box was filled to the top with blankets of different patterns, clothes, and colors.

When he got back, he borrowed some food (permanently) due to their insistence. A muffin, of Kitty's making, who was glad that someone appreciated her baking talents, which Danny managed to force down, filled him, along with a glass of water. That was quite enough for a halfa who only ate half of what most people needed to eat. In fact, it would easily serve for lunch, as well. Her muffins were incredibly lumpy, and disgusting, but edible. He only told her that her cooking skills might need a little work, and asked her what recipe she had been using. Apparently, she was cooking blueberry muffins.

Danny, who wound up being asked what went wrong, told her that she had probably cooked them for too long and added too many heavy ingredients. When asked how he knew, his simple excuse was that he'd been cooking for a very long time. He was glad that he was capable of offering advice, but he was pretty sure that saving Kitty's cooking skills would take either an entirely different set of skills he _didn't_ have, or life alone after college in an apartment.

He was glad when he managed to leave, forcing his way into his truck, already certain that he really would clean out his truck one day, but uncertain as to when that day would occur. He had a few new books to read, which he hoped contained the answers to his dilemma about Jean, because they were the last books he hadn't read on the shelves after a summer straight of reading. If they didn't contain the answers, he might just break the bad news to the council, and then they would argue for the extermination of one Jean Grey. He predicted that it would take a week to finish the books, and he really wished that the Ancients had a phonebook. Or that he could scream at someone, instead of having to maintain a façade, one of complete seriousness and dignity. Too bad he was always being watched.

It was late at night, deep in the dark hours, that the X-men awoke with a start as their minds were prodded into awareness by the Professor, who needed them in the main room, immediately. It was a sudden mission, need brought about by the government, which had lost control of a missile launching system from the 1980s, primitive, malfunctioning, but hurling towards earth at a tremendous rate, with enough missile power to decimate the earth's population by a twentieth if it hit the ocean, which it was headed straight towards. The X-men were desperately needed, because they were the best equipped to intervene in an outer space mission.

The X-men were debriefed quickly, and the team started out as soon as possible, with a team that consisted of Scott, Jean, Kitty, Hank, Kurt, Logan, and a disgruntled Rogue, who still wished she were sleeping. They travelled in an altered Blackbird Velocity. Forge had had a field day turning it into a jet capable of outer space travel, and the design of the plane showed it.

 **Like it? Hate it? I only started this last night, so it may not be particularly good…Got any ideas for the story? By all means, share them!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	11. Mission

**I own nothing!**

 _The X-men were debriefed quickly, and the team started out as soon as possible, with a team that consisted of Scott, Jean, Kitty, Hank, Kurt, Logan, and a disgruntled Rogue, who still wished she were sleeping. They travelled in an altered Blackbird Velocity. Forge had had a field day turning it into a jet capable of outer space travel, and the design of the plane showed it._

Chapter 10: Mission

They piled into the jet as fast as they could, ready, or so they hoped, for this mission. They would be getting rid of a missile system that had gone wild, probably due to the disruptive fields of magnetism that Magneto had caused when he tried to fight Apocalypse. They would be receiving their briefing on the way to the ship.

It was less than five minutes into flight that the call arrived, and bomb diffusion expert Mr. Dylan Cosel appeared on a screen in front of them. The government was afraid of mutants, but so far, they were working on civil terms with the X-men.

"Hello," the man greeted them, "My name is Mr. Cosel. Who is your leader?" He looked around through the screen, as if judging them to see who the leader might be. Hank raised his hand, waiting to be acknowledged. "Good. Dr. Henry McCoy, I presume that none of you know how to diffuse a bomb." Even though it wasn't a question, everyone nodded in agreement, waiting.

"I need to tell you quickly, so listen. Inside this missile system, in the control room, I'll send the blueprints, there is only enough room for three person, or, at a stretch, four. I suggest three, for more mobility. You will see a lot of switches. Locate the one on the red wall, the one that's colored yellow, and is on a door. Open the door, and you'll see a password-encrypted vault. The password is 298ujf808-76ve9ft0. Enter that in the door. Write the password down, remember, it's 298ujf808-76ve9ft0." He paused, to give them time to write it down, before continuing.

"The vault should open, with a little pulling. When you get it open, you'll see wires, lots of them. All have insulation, and that's how you'll figure out which ones to cut to disable the launching system, and diffuse the bombs. There's a red wire, pull it, yank it, but use rubber gloves. Thick ones. When it breaks, you've disabled the launchers. There's another set, yellow, purple, orange. If they are together, they aren't the right ones. One should be in the corner, upper left, only orange one you see there. The yellow one's in the middle, more or less, and it should be right next to a green one. Follow the green down, and you've got the purple one. Pull all of those, except the green one. Pull the green one, and you've hit the self-destruct button, which can vaporize near-instantly. Good luck." The connection stopped when the message stopped broadcasting.

"I didn't even get to ask why we can't just phase, y' know? Like, I'm sure my phasing could fix the problem!" Kitty commented. Hank answered her question.

"Kitty, if you phase through the wiring, the place will blow up. Even with you phased, the radiation could severely harm you. We can't risk that. If we use Mr. Cosel's instructions, nobody gets hurt."

Kitty wore a slight pout, but then asked, "So, like, why'd you take me?" She was puzzled, after all, how could she be needed if she served no purpose in the disarmament of the missile.

"You will be going in to phase our craft. At the distance the Blackbird will be at, the radiation shouldn't hurt us if we're phased. If we aren't, it could kill us. No pressure." Logan was serious, until the last part.

Kitty winced. Very easy. Now, she was only responsible for everyone's lives. "So, who's going?"

"Jean, Kurt, and Logan will be going in. Kurt can teleport everyone out if something goes wrong, Jean can probably form a temporary shield to protect herself. Logan can help if the casing of the vault is too tough. Rogue, Scott, Kitty, and myself will stay aboard. Scott can help me control the craft, and read the instructions, Kitty, you already know what you'll do, and Rogue, you need to absorb some of Kitty's abilities, so you can be sure the Blackbird is phased all the way, until I give the all's clear. I can't think of anything else at the moment, except that we need to keep up contact through the ear pieces."

Everyone stayed silent, contemplating their roles, memorizing the instructions, and preparing themselves mentally. Finally, they got up, and began putting on the costumes they'd been given. Everyone was ready when they hovered near the missile launcher.

It was Jean who stepped out first, followed by Kurt and Logan. They made their way over to the missile launcher, due to Jean's telekinesis, and stepped inside, using a tiny hatch. Scott and Logan each had blueprints to the launcher, so it was fairly easy to navigate once they figured out where in the ship they were. It didn't take long to reach the control center, but Logan nearly had to be left behind, because it took a while for him to get through some of the doorways. Finally, they reached the control room.

The control room was made of shiny metal on the inside, with the cold metallic glint of stainless steel. It had little wrinkles in the inside, making a little bit of light capable of lighting up the entire area. Jean carefully moved to the control box, while Kurt moved around, looking at the buttons, waiting for the signal to teleport aboard. Logan opened the cabinet that the door was in, and Jean began punching in the code: 298ujf808-76ve9ft0. Each button made a different click as she dialed it in.

Jean POV (Point of View)

Each wire twisted in and out in a confusing mesh, difficult to tell apart by anything except the colors. Scott read off the instructions, and I followed them as well as I could, though following the green wire was difficult, due to the intermeshed wires. My hands were steady, and my telekinesis aided me. I could vaguely hear Kurt making some kind of worried comment about airflow.

Suddenly, though, Hank started talking through the earpiece. "Jean, Logan, Kurt, you need to get out of there now. Your suits are malfunctioning, and there isn't enough time to finish. Now!" His voice was tight with worry, and signaled that we had to obey him. I could tell something was wrong, because the air had become nearly impossible to breath, but I had assumed that there was a kink in the hose that led to my helmet. "You have only a few seconds. If you get out fast, Scott might could blast the thing, and make it explode."

I turned around, thinking hard, and watching Kurt, who was starting to gasp slightly. He was making his way over to Logan, and managed to grasp him. As he did so, I realized something. Scott couldn't blast it, not hard enough. The metal exterior, the hatch we'd had to go through, Logan had had trouble getting through, so he tried to use his claws. They had barely scratched it, which was impressive, considering what Logan's claws were made of. Scott's eyebeams wouldn't do a thing against it, not even with amplification.

Kurt finally managed to teleport, just as I reached a conclusion. I was having trouble thinking now, but even with that, I knew what I had to do.

 _/Bye, Scott. I love you./_

 _/Jean? What are you talking about?/_

 _/You can't succeed when you try to blast this./_

I could hear him trying to make me stop, screaming at me, terrified for me, and my Voice joined it. For almost the first time, I heard it. I had only genuinely heard its speech when it came to keep the darkness of my own mind from killing me when I felt Anne die.

 _/Stop, stop! You'll kill us both!/_

I've almost never defied my Voice, but this is a time to defy it, if ever there were, and I reach for the green wire, yanking it, hard. I feel it snap inside my weakening hand, hear the sudden tremble that signifies the beginning of the chemical reaction that will lead to my death, and I hear Scott, because he hasn't stopped screaming. It takes barely a second for the tremble to stop, a pause as everything prepares itself, before I am being torn apart from within my own mind, as darkness begins to cover my vision, and I feel flames, fiery, burning me, slowly, but not painfully.

 _/I will not die. I am the Phoenix!/_

In that second, the faint feel of life, the feeling I remember from Anne, remember sensing ripple, and then fade, swells, until I am no longer in control of my actions, and the burning that has ignited in my chest consumes me. I can only hear a screech, and feel my body soaring towards the stars. I can see, but I am a passenger inside my own body, and not-me, Voice, Phoenix, is trying to reach the stars. I feel them growing closer.

 _/Energy. I need it!/_

I can feel exhaustion rising, the energy from radiation the only thing between It and unconsciousness, and I realize I need control back. This foreign force must not master me. I close down our brain, fighting hard. My vision, _our_ vision, goes dark, signaling my success.

 **How d' ye like me latest chapter? Remember to write a review, whether it be flame or praise! Thus begins the Phoenix Saga, extremely edited down and altered. Enjoy!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	12. Of Phoenixes

**I own nothing! Important A/N: I will not be updating on December 1, and 8, because those days will be too close to Latin 1 finals. If I manage to write a chapter, I will post it, but if I cannot, I hope I will at least have extra ideas for more chapters. I couldn't update this last night. My grandfather died a few days ago, so I didn't have any time for finishing this chapter. We've been getting ready for the funeral. I ran into complications with my Phoenix plot arch. I will still try to update next Tuesday on time. I will refer to Jean as either Jean (in her proper personality), Phoenix, or Desire. Phoenix and Desire are interchangeable.**

 _I can feel exhaustion rising, the energy from radiation the only thing between It and unconsciousness, and I realize I need control back. This foreign force must not master me. I close down our brain, fighting hard. My vision, our vision, goes dark, signaling my success._

Chapter 11: Of Phoenixes

Jean woke up slowly, painfully. Or maybe it was Phoenix who woke up painfully. Anyway, both of them could feel it. It took a little time to adjust to her/their surroundings, and Phoenix was confused. What should they do? It was at that point that Phoenix realized It was incased in a large, metal container, on a bed. Phoenix did not like being trapped.

Jean had stopped It. Phoenix needed energy, and It needed energy desperately. It looked around again, and sensed an energy source. It wanted that energy, but it couldn't get It. Not yet. That fool of a human, Scott, the one that Jean seemed to love so much, to…desire, had entered. He would do, for now. A smile spread across Phoenix's face, and, as Scott made his way over to it, Phoenix leaned forward, legs sliding off the bed, long gown trailing behind It. Scott stood only a few feet away, and Phoenix let the force of Jean's desire carry It forward, giving Scott a hug, and a kiss on the lips.

Scott was turned from righteous fury at Jean's sacrifice to confusion, to desire. Phoenix's smile grew as he kissed It back, and, for a few seconds, only the two of them existed. It was Scott who pulled away first, and Phoenix was disappointed. It wanted energy, and energy It would have. Ah, well. Phoenix could wait a little longer.

"Jean. Jean, you shouldn't have done that." Scott stated sharply. Poor human, as much as Phoenix agreed, Jean's sacrifice had set It free. "You should have answered me. I love you, and I don't like the idea of you getting hurt. Please, don't do that again."

Phoenix smirked, lazily. "If I want to do it again, I won't have to ask you." Ha! It could rip him to shreds if It felt in the mood. Desire didn't live life with barriers to Its enjoyment. Not that threatening Its life counted as something It wanted. It waited for a little bit longer, and watched Charles Xavier enter. He would have made a prime candidate for a host, but Desire hadn't fully reformed, and couldn't have chosen his body if It wanted to when he was born.

It was Charles who sensed something was wrong, and gave Scott the alarm. "Scott, back away from Jean." He looked confused, and Desire realized why quickly. It had forgotten how to raise barriers against other telepaths. That meant that right now, Its mind was an open book.

"Jean's fine, Professor. Aren't you?" He asked, looking concerned. The last part was addressed to Phoenix. The warning the human telepath gave came moments too late, as Desire realized the reality of the situation, at the same moment It realized Its mind was being probed for information. Desire lunged forward at the self-same second the Professor realized what was coming, and tackled Scott in one more kiss, disorienting him. For a second, Desire searched for that familiar thread of want, and pulled it, attacked it, absorbed energy that Scott left open to Its mind, and watched him sink to the ground with a sense of delight. He had collapsed, and was watching her, only now realizing that something was wrong.

Phoenix pulled in flames, released flames, and soared through the roof. Energy. It saw some, distantly. A fire. Phoenix moved quickly.

* * *

Daniel Williams had been trying to read more about Desire when he felt a jolt of energy. It was similar to being stabbed in the skull, crushed, and then sent to fight Pariah…without an Ecto-Skeleton. At least, that was what he compared it to. He buckled under the pain, losing consciousness. He knew it had been more than an hour when he woke up again; the stars had shifted quite a few degrees. He would guess about three hours, and his head still throbbed. At least he wasn't dead, or in a hospital.

He tried to dismiss the feeling that something had gone wrong with the world, but he wasn't successful. He wasn't sure if not being successful in that was a bad thing, or a good thing. He managed to stumble into his house, and through the piles of junk. He collapsed onto his bed after taking some ibuprofen.

He woke up again in time for lunch, and he knew he wasn't going to be very sleepy, so he would probably read all night. He fixed a lunch without paying much attention to what was in it, and he ate, keeping an eye out for trouble. It was at that point that he saw the fiery bird sweep over the city of Bayville, a phoenix. He tripped over the chair he'd left himself to read while sitting on, and watched it soar away. Even in daylight, it was possible to see the flames.

It was at that point that it occurred to him, maybe he ought to speed up the research. He was fairly certain that had been Desire. Lovely. He ate and read simultaneously. He was starting to compile useful information, and there was a chance that he could do something. He just hoped he could finish his theory before the world needed it.

 **Like it? Loathe it? (I couldn't resist saying, "Loathe") Review it, please! I'll try to get the next chapter out on time. Still: Phoenix plot difficulties. I have sort-of got them worked out, though. Almost.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	13. Telephone Books and Events

**I own nothing!**

 _It was at that point that it occurred to him, maybe he ought to speed up the research. He was fairly certain that had been Desire. Lovely. He ate and read simultaneously. He was starting to compile useful information, and there was a chance that he could do something. He just hoped he could finish his theory before the world needed it._

Chapter 12: Telephone Books and Events

Thank God there was something called a Guide to Summons. Daniel needed the ancients, and he needed them now. Too bad he was still working out the appropriate formula for summoning the ancients. Most people spent their time during almost-Christmas-vacation getting ready for December. Daniel? He spent his time poring over books. At the moment, it was about the best thing he could do.

The Phoenix, Desire, had been wreaking havoc all across the multiverse. Its very existence was enough to almost unhinge reality. Everyone had felt it: a tremor that ran through everything as the thin webbing that the universes existed in almost ruptured. Several universes had been destroyed, populations decimated. Massive "natural" disasters made life much more difficult to keep on Earth. The tremor that had displaced everything began with the consumption by the Phoenix of a far-off star, and hadn't ended entirely yet.

The tremor had been a moment of pure confusion. For a space of about 1.75 seconds, the collective minds of everyone on Earth had gone mind-washed blank. It caused a panic reaction that was almost as bad as the infamous Seven Days. However, it wasn't as bad, if only because it was a few seconds, instead of an entire week. Nobody remembered that week; mutants were the suspects, quite naturally. It was only logical to blame the beings that possessed the abilities of ancient gods and goddesses.

Danny knew what had happened. He was also apparently to blame, because he hadn't told them he knew about Jean, and they suspected he had. Of course, this might not have happened had Daniel told the Council. He tried not to dwell too much on that. He mustered a grin as he found more potential signs. First task? Find six people to host them, temporarily, of course. Then, there came the small matter of not being caught while he did that. There were certain simple things, such as certain people he knew would be willing: Amorpho, Pandora, Alois. These were ghosts, except Alois, who was a spirit. Alois was a great friend of Danny's, who spent most of his time in the court of Princess Dorthea. He needed three more people. A possible solution entered his mind. It occurred to him as he researched the legends behind the Pariah during a moment of boredom from looking at diagrams.

There was an old story about Pariah Dark, which seemed to address the origins of Apocalypse. Danny had heard it from time to time, but few people took it seriously. It implied that the four horsemen were "wired" for ghostly/spiritual mind control, now that they'd been changed by the mind-altering abilities of Apocalypse, so there was a small possibility that Danny could figure something out about that before too many more people died. While keeping his identity safe and secret was not of top priority, Danny would do his best to avoid revelations for now.

Meetings were held over the Phoenix, and confrontations were made. People had died in those confrontations. It was a relief that Jean was not recognizable as the Phoenix. Nobody had realized that they were the same people. However, everyone suspected a mutant. Tanks were employed, and bombers. Somebody lured the Phoenix into the desert, and, with permission from the government of the area, used an American manufactured atomic bomb. For now, so great was the threat of annihilation that even enemy countries worked hard to work together. Systems of underground sanctuaries were created, in countries around the world. They weren't too large, but they were large enough to keep safe a fair number of people. The most skilled people were transferred into them, and few others knew about that system.

Crime rates ran high, but terrorism was mostly not done, except by civilian populations, which believed that the government was responsible for the destruction around them. Washington, DC was practically under siege, even as it tried its best to quell the dangerous unrest, and destroy the Phoenix. So were a great many other countries' capitals. Iran, torn by war previously, and several other smaller nations, tore themselves apart, but some nations took advantage of the unrest, and either managed to solidify their power, take more power, or steal more land from the nations that couldn't defend themselves.

Many nations simply ceased to exist in this manner, and chaos reigned freely. Most of the larger countries declared martial law, and mapmakers were incapable of getting a country to have correct borders. New nation were formed, only to disappear overnight. Some larger nations crumbled. Not everyone, however, disappeared. Several nations separated from each other. Some got stronger. Pieces of the United States, from California, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona were torn away by Mexico. Small pieces, but the United States barely had enough military forces to take care of it.

Some of the northern states were chipped at by Canada, though not always intentionally. The cities in them might simply declare that they didn't want to be part of the United States, and start acting Canadian. Some cities temporarily declared independence. Most were reabsorbed into the States pretty quickly. People everywhere, especially around the borders, never knew whether they were part of their nation, or the nation next-door. Many people died, not just from the national disasters. It was difficult to believe that Phoenix had only unleashed itself less than a year ago. School was on-and-off, so Danny had to hold classes that had less-than-stellar attendance rates. People moved a lot, but they almost never moved out of country, because the governments had closed borders, officially. The people who moved outside were partially rare, because you didn't even need to move to switch countries. There were plenty of illegal immigrants to go around.

If there was chaos in the human realms, there was equal chaos in the zone. Phoenix had disappeared into the zone a few times, each time causing great loss of life (or whatever it was called) there. Most of the countries there were already created on feeble grounds, and were easily torn apart. A few stuck together, and the council was the only reason some stuck together. War erupted between several large populations of Ghosts and Spirits. Mythical creatures were pouring out of the figurative woodworks. It was incredibly difficult to avoid open war all over. More spirits were created, and more ghosts as well, at an unprecedented rate. At least, for now, the mythological creatures, some of which had become visible, were mistaken for mutants.

It was becoming steadily more difficult to keep the wool over peoples' eyes, especially those who had more open minds than the rest of the humans, or who had had experiences that were supernatural. There were rumors of a revival in anti-mutant weaponry, and Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students was becoming difficult to attend. Many humans forbade their children to go there. Many mutant children were killed, even though it wasn't technically legal, or approved by the government. The government of the United States had pretty much (at first) supported, or not interfered, at least, with mutants. Now, however, while it didn't say it approved, it needed a scapegoat, and mutants were there. Besides, most people in the government already blamed them, without needing to have somebody to blame.

They had finally been thrown out of Bayville High School, so it was up to a few teachers to educate mutants, because everyone else refused to. Danny helped as much as he could, but he was so busy that he contemplated turning in a resignation to the high school. It didn't help that he caught a severe case of influenza, and that it led to a relatively short breakdown from the pressure of trying to juggle his responsibilities. He barely ate for a time, so he wasn't very strong when he was finished with the flu. He had to get a substitute teacher.

He was, for the moment, glad that he'd had friends, in the form of the teachers at the institute. They were the ones who realized he hadn't come in a while, even on his schedule, and inquired. They were also the ones, who, on learning of his flu, came for a visit (sort-of) and left food for him to eat on his steps. They also picked him up later, when they saw that his food was untouched, taking advantage of his offer to help. After all, it was time they paid him back, and it seemed like he might need it. Especially when they entered, and they realized what kind of condition the flu had put him in.

He had gotten thin because he couldn't eat, and he was at the point where he was so dehydrated he didn't notice it. He was in and out if consciousness, the fever putting him in awful condition, and sometimes a little delirious. They hadn't realized he knew Classical Greek until that point, and Danny was incredibly glad that they didn't understand it at the level he was fluent in. He stayed at the institute until he got better, them forcing food down him, even when he wasn't hungry. Admittedly, letting them see him in a less-than-perfect state of health was embarrassing, but he got better faster.

He didn't let them into his books, and he moved back to his house quickly, finally finding the energy to clean some parts of it. It had a semblance of neatness before, and now it was almost perfect, but it was still blush-worthy in some rooms. He had a large board now, with diagrams all over it. He hoped that it wasn't in vain. He needed it to work, because he didn't want to see what would happen to the world if it didn't work. He almost had it, almost figured out how to temporarily rewire their brains so the ancients could take over their bodies temporarily. He had asked them if they would do anything to stop the Phoenix in a conversation, even down to possession. They had agreed, but Danny knew he would still feel guilty for doing this without their permission. He just hoped they would agree with him if they found out.

 **Like it? Hate it? Review it, please! I didn't even think much about what the world would do when the Phoenix escaped Jean. It may take a bit of work to hammer out all of the Phoenix's story. It feels like I'm rushing it.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	14. Operation: Artemis

**I own nothing…except what you fail to recognize from any X-men or Danny Phantom related shows.**

Chapter 13: Operation: Artemis

The newly-elected Senator Kelly straightened his tie, made sure his coat was properly settled over his shoulders, and checked for stains that his wife might have missed. He gave a few quick brushes with a comb to his brown hair, noting a few greying strands with a frown, and placed his clear glasses on his face, smiling as the slightly unfocused world sharpened. He was very glad he had grown up with such a good family doctor, who could recommend a replacement when he retired. Kelly had visited a couple of doctors about his eyes, presbyopia being an unfortunate problem that ran in his family, striking early. His grandfather had eventually become incapable of seeing objects unless they were at least twenty feet away.

Kelly leaned over, put his black oxfords on, and quick-stepped into the area just behind the curtains that he was to enter by. He let his hand pass over the papers his prepared speech of acceptance and action were written on. Everyone already knew he was practically acting as more than a senator long before his official election. Most of the candidates had dropped out, and everyone had already known he would win. To the people, his word was law. Had he tried to run for president, he would have undoubtedly won. He came from a rich family; it was almost certain that he would run for president soon, and that he had the money.

The audience outside applauded, and a little _ding_ told Kelly that it was time for him to enter. He strolled through the curtains, knowing he was smiling enough to light the auditorium he entered. He stepped across the wooden floor, arrived at his podium, where a microphone perched, ready for his voice, and pulled his notes out, placing them on said podium. He scanned the crowd, noting the people who had gathered there. There were Hispanics, Asians, African-Americans, Native Americans, and just plain old Americans. All were gathered for the purpose of celebrating his election. His security detail occupied a row of chairs in front of him, the crowd pushing up close against the barriers that had been put up just behind them. He recognized John Nightingale, his favorite of the guards, watching his eyes carefully, studying him, and wondering if any kind of intervention would be needed. Kelly noted the mutants that were scattered throughout the crowd, watching him as well, hoping he wouldn't disappoint them. He noted Warren Worthington Jr. and saw that his son, Warren Worthington III was beside him, wings well-hidden beneath a trench coat.

Kelly cleared his throat and began, "It is an incredible honor to be standing before you, the American People, elected to be senator. I am grateful for the opportunity to represent so many people in the government, and grateful that you trust me enough to let me take on such an important responsibility for our republic, the responsibility to do the right thing by my fellow Americans, whatever ethnic group they belong to. I know that, _together_ , we can make America a better, safer place to live, for ourselves, and for our loved ones." The crowd stirred, rustled, and settled, smiles crossing the faces of many of the people he spoke in front of. Even the mutants did so.

"Two years ago, I was an ordinary man, a principal at Bayville High School in Bayville, New York. Two years ago, mutants were revealed to us, and we learned that there were beings among us who possessed extraordinary power, the power of gods and goddesses of the ancient world. Two years ago, everything changed. I thought that mutants were a threat at that time, and my beliefs so far have held true." The mutants who had come frowned in protest, but Kelly went on, "But there are exceptions. I have met mutants who would give anything to be normal, to be human again. I have tried, even before I began to rise in the polls, to help them. My friend, Warren Worthington Jr., has been successful in the creation of a cure for your damaged genes, and we have set up clinics across the country. These clinics have been in operation for a few weeks now, and mutant after mutant has been healed." The mutants relaxed again, and several humans smiled at the "healed" part. They were clearly ones that had been involved in the program, though several other humans also looked happy. Kelly guessed that many of those were parents of mutants.

"Phoenix, the mutant who has ravaged our earth for the past year, is a danger I have also gained help in stopping. It has killed far too many people, crossing that line at the first death. A man who wishes to remain anonymous gave me extensive blueprints for a massive robot, programmed to search for the Phoenix and stop it. I call it Operation: Artemis. I have before said that I would rely on you to tell me if I should unleash them. You have said yes. Therefore, in a week's time, I will release them." Relief crossed the faces of many people present. They didn't know about all of the sentinels, they didn't realize that there had been tests which determined that human sentinels were possible, or that work had been started to develop a software and hardware system that would seamlessly integrate with human brains. Of course, even _Kelly_ didn't know that such tests had been conducted. A man nine hundred forty-six miles away had designed them, and, while imperfect, was convinced that with the help of excess funding for his blueprints, he could make them work. Kelly would not have permitted such a blatant abuse of trust, or the violation of the right to free will that such a program would involve. No, Kelly believed in free will, however controlled by circumstances engineered by others it was.

"Two years ago, we were stunned by the knowledge of mutants' existence. Today, we have adapted, changed, and we can defend ourselves should any attack us. During those two years, I was helped by my campaign manager, the many volunteers, and the support of my family. I would like to officially thank them, and I would like to thank _you_ , the American people, for voting for me, for making it finally possible for me to defend us against those who would undermine our American ideals, and kill hundreds of innocents, and I would like to thank those mutants who are courageous enough to come forward, to identify themselves in the recently passed registration act. I would like to thank the ones who were willing to undergo the cure, for those of the mutants who want to become normal again. And I want to issue a warning to the mutant terrorists out there: you will not be tolerated. I will do anything to protect those I have been elected to serve."

Kelly concluded his speech, and the speech was cumulated with a round of clapping. He decided that his speech editor might get a tip for this one. He smiled, offered a small tilt of the head, and stepped behind the curtains, knowing the intended effect had taken place. The people were enthralled. He waited for a few press agents to walk in, answered their questions, and made sure to put himself in a positive light. It might have been a long process in getting there, but he had won, and he was planning on allowing a few hours of resting on his laurels before he resumed the tough task of being a politician.

Kelly got home late that night, seeing his wife waiting for him on the porch, pregnant belly bulging with his daughter. He enveloped her in a tight hug, and whispered in her ear, "The world will be safe for our child. They didn't object to Operation: Artemis." He pulled back after adding a kiss to his words. As he led her inside, he asked her how she felt.

"The baby was kicking pretty hard earlier, but I think it fell asleep." She smiled at him. "I heated up some of the steak you cooked for a celebration meal while you talked."

"Did it still taste good?"

"Yes, dearie." She gave a mischievous grin, and, tugging his arm, led him willingly in the direction of their small bedroom. He gave in without a struggle.

In his apartment, Bolivar Trask smiled with satisfaction at another job well-done. Senator Kelly had copied his sentinels, exactly as Bolivar had given instruction to. He had failed to question what all of the components do, and the one he might later wish he hadn't installed was one of the ones he hadn't enquired about entirely. Bolivar had allies that Kelly couldn't even dream of having, allies both human and mutant, allies which would exterminate all of the mutants, whether or not they intended to. Guy Spear, in particular, would be useful for Stage Two of his plan, as yet unnamed, something he only referred to as his Plan.

His head tilted to the side as he observed the carefully guarded feed to his cameras, where test subjects, both human and mutant, stood side-by-side in his special lab, less than fifty miles away from his apartment. His smile grew a little larger as he saw their man, the one he had finally decided to create, as his first mutant-hunter. The game was going well, and nobody suspected a thing.

 **Hi! How do you like this chapter? The only reason it took so long to update is that I wrote the chapter that will follow this one, and then I realized I needed a little chapter inserted here.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	15. At Council

**I own nothing!**

 _His head tilted to the side as he observed the carefully guarded feed to his cameras, where test subjects, both human and mutant, stood side-by-side in his special lab, less than fifty miles away from his apartment. His smile grew a little larger as he saw their man, the one he had finally decided to create, as his first mutant-hunter. The game was going well, and nobody suspected a thing._

Chapter 13: At Council

For me, who had come so close to solving the problem, it was incredibly frustrating. I knew what I was doing, and I would have continued the way I had, preferably finding more ghostly/spiritual volunteers to let the ancients borrow. I really hadn't wanted to mind-control the X-men. Unfortunately, the matter was taken out of my hands.

"Sir Phantom, because you have failed to produce a solution, and failed to tell the council of your previous discovery about Desire's identity, your research will be taken, and given to our workers. Only because you have nearly completed it, and because you have done so much work for the Zone, you will be allowed to retain your post as Councilman."

One of my personal non-favorites, Everit Drake, was the one who pronounced this judgement on me. Everit had a fixation on rules, though not as badly as Walker, and enjoyed making judgements. He had made it his personal mission to oust me from the ranks of councilmen, but I had stubbornly hung on. Unfortunately for Everit, his fixation on justice, as much as it meant I had to be punished, meant that he had to still put up with me, because it was only just that I continue in his post, unless I committed another crime, considering the benefits I had also brought about.

"You must also explain all of your work. Should you refuse, your post will be taken by a more worthy ecto-entity, and you will be sentenced to spend five years in Walker's cells." Everyone there knew it would spell death for me. Walker hated me with a vengeance, and would not fail to torture me to death. He had tried it, once. He captured me, kept me for a week, less than a year before I told Mom and Dad about myself. I had barely survived that week, and there was no possibility that I would survive five years. "Do you accept?"

It would be better if I hung on, if I explained. Something needed to be done, and if nobody understood what I'd written, I would be guilty of the deaths of everyone on earth, and in all the dimensions. I had already tried to plea for another month my way, but it was too late. Nothing could be done about the course of events, and a month was plenty of time for people to die in. I was too attached to the events, they told me, because I was a teacher. I knew I was, but I didn't want to kill. I needed to lose my attachment, but I couldn't. Jean almost reminded me of another red-head I knew, long ago. Jazz.

"I accept." Those two words bound me down tight. I couldn't lie, not now. Even when my heart wanted to shrivel up, and my core was pulsating in protest, I needed to help. I couldn't sacrifice my worlds for an enemy. My core protested because it still wanted, it _needed_ to protect Jean. My students. My core was tearing itself apart. My students. I knew what would happen when I got home. My students. I was about to betray them. I was, to all intents and purposes, going to kill one of my students, by giving information. I didn't let the pain show through, though. If I did, I would be showing weakness. I wouldn't show weakness. Nobody knew exactly what my obsession was, and while an obsession for a halfa wasn't as powerful as it was or a fully ectoplasm-based entity, such as a ghost or spirit, it was still dangerous to let anyone know.

Nobody realized that part of the reason I was a teacher was because if I didn't have something to fixate my obsession on, I could go insane. I could protect my students. I loved teaching, and it helped keep my sanity intact, while providing a good, easy cover. After all, why would Danny Fenton of Amity Park be a teacher? Of course, a ghost that disobeyed his/her/its obsession could either go insane, die, or be forced to change. I hoped that the consequences wouldn't be that bad for me. I was a halfa. It might not be so terrible. Everit might have chosen a more merciful route had he known it wasn't just, that he might be condemning me to insanity. I fought it off, pushed through my core's pain.

"I'll do it. I just need to gather my work. Please, listen to my plan. I've almost finished one." I knew from the looks on their faces that they weren't listening. I was given an absent nod, and instructed to pack all of my work, and to delay teaching for a time. I chose not to tell them that, because it was Christmas break, there were no classes to teach for three weeks, not even of the informal kind.

"Make sure you fulfil your end of the deal, and you won't stay with Walker. Be back within two days." I would be. It would be easy to pack everything. The hard part would be when I got home.

True to my belief, it was difficult when I got home. I had to rest. My core hurt worse now, and there was no such thing as ibuprofen that would ease the pain of defying an obsession. It was like someone yelling at you, telling you everything that they thought made you a failure. The pain wasn't stoppable. You could block it out for a time, but it would come back. I had defied my obsession once, killing my parents for what they did to me. I was already half-insane, and killing them must not have been that terrible, because my core didn't hurt me, too badly. It was vengeance, and I had no attachment to them, nothing other than the barely-there remembrances of the times they hugged me, fading into the back of my memories, incapable of stopping me.

I worked through the pain, gathering my notes, preparing myself to stay at the Aqil Manor, which had become our permanent place for discussing politics. I gathered food, and left a note for the X-men in the mail. It read:

Dear Professor:

I am away on a trip. I won't be back for until Christmas break is over, probably. I need to cancel all of my prior appointment, including my visit to your school tomorrow, until then. I will reestablish contact when I return. Until then, don't worry. I have important business to attend to, business that cannot wait. I hope to be back in time for the end of Christmas break. I have sent similar notes to everyone else I have obligations to, so don't worry about the high school calling. They probably won't, but you can just tell them that you don't know anything more about my absence than they do.

Sincerely,

Daniel Williams

 _Daniel Williams_

I was even telling the truth. I just didn't state the full truth. I left the note, and took off for the Zone.

* * *

The trip was easy, as usual. There were two guards at the west entrance, the entryway Danny chose to come in by. He provided the password and they let him past. He walked through the stone halls, until he reached a green door. Danny stopped once he passed this door, and entered the temporary room he had been assigned. He set up his bed, and moved it against the wall. He put books on the shelves, and nervously adjusted shades and things. He was doing it all to distract himself from his throbbing _throbbing_ core. He breathed deeply, and answered the bell that chimed its suppertime notes, telling the inhabitants that supper was ready.

It was a short walk to the dining hall, where foods of all kinds were served. He, quite naturally, was forced to cook his own food, because he was still partially human, and had to eat human foods. He didn't mind gathering the happy hum of people around him who were telling jokes, and using that to aid his energy needs, the same as he was sure almost every other ghost in the room was doing. Few people gathered any of his energy, because he didn't project the way they did. He didn't really project, a side effect of his ability to shield his mind. It was a little disturbing that so many of them left their minds so unguarded, but Danny was glad, because it made it easier to feed off of their emotions.

He ate his food quickly, briefly discussed politics with Dorthea, who enquired about how life was, back in Bayville. He told her that, other than the chaos, it was almost the same. Not much of the damage had found its way there yet, so not much had changed. He spoke about Jean and Scott, and how they were dating, and almost engaged. He learned that Dorthea had tried to stand up for his right to work for another month, and that she had been outvoted. He offered a tight smile, and told her it was alright.

Daniel was quick to finish eating and retire to a room to reset up his papers on the walls, so he could explain the problem. He really hoped they didn't decide to kill Jean. Nearly two hours later, having been informed that he was already there, the politicians filed in, determined to start. Danny was not happy with that idea, but he dealt with it.

He had put several of his pictures on the board in the room, and quietly began:

"I was supposed to be studying Jean Grey, the one who is called Desire. Desire is a second personality of sorts, and has always inhabited her, probably. An accident involving the host caused her to lose her subconscious control, and caused her to morph into Desire, Phoenix, as the Real-Worlders call it. They are bound together, but can be taken apart. The Ancients" here there were gasps, "devised a ceremony that could summon them, but I was unable to work it out entirely. There were too many missing pieces. I have my diagram, incomplete, on the board."

Danny continued with his explanation, telling them everything he knew about the process required to separate them. Looks were exchanged, and Danny listened closely to the non-vocal conversation as well as he could. When he was finished, he returned to bed.

He woke up early the next day, and shared more information, such as about the symbols. It took three days, including the constant arguments, to entirely sort out everything, and he tried to offer his advice. It was less than two hours later that he was thrown out. Well, he wasn't exactly thrown out, so much as told to leave, and there was nothing he could do about it. He got Princess Dorthea to promise to tell him what they decided. They only told him that they were working on their own solution. Daniel clung to the belief that they wouldn't kill Jean, if only because it hurt him worse to say anything.

Daniel arrived safely back home, hating himself for giving in to pressure, but knowing at the same time that it was all he could do. He didn't leave his house again for a while, and when he did, he had trouble looking them in the eyes, but he kept going. Now wasn't the time to stop. He worked as hard as he could to outpace them in reaching a conclusion. He hadn't given up yet, but he was starting to near that point. He worked as hard as he could, even forgetting about Christmas in his efforts. He didn't pay any attention to visitors, and he knew that events in the outside world were happening quickly, and that he probably couldn't do anything about it. That wasn't going to stop him from trying, though. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to be.

 **How do you like this chapter? Please remember to review it! I hope I can finish this part of the Phoenix Saga soon.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	16. Dear Makalani

**I own nothing! Yes, there is a reason I couldn't update immediately as soon as I like to. We have guests coming over, and we had to refloor and redo a bunch of stuff upstairs, so it was hard to finish this chapter, especially considering that I've been staying up at my grandmother's house, and she goes to bed really early, so I have to be there by 6:00 pm, usually.**

 _He worked as hard as he could, even forgetting about Christmas in his efforts. He didn't pay any attention to visitors, and he knew that events in the outside world were happening quickly, and that he probably couldn't do anything about it. That wasn't going to stop him from trying, though. He could be very stubborn when he wanted to be._

Chapter 15: Dear Makalani…

December 16, 2013

Dear Makalani , I finally got to my eighteenth birthday! In two more years I'll be out of my teens! It's kinda sad to think about. The end of an era, so to speak. Marie still thinks it's weird that I bothered to name you, but I think she'll come around. I explained that I _had_ to name you, because if I didn't…well, it feels really funny to talk to a book about my problems. I've got heaps of them.

I haven't written to you in almost two weeks, because of the vacation I had from stuff. Remember how I said that, as soon as I finished with college for this semester I'd visit the mountains? Well, I did. I drove all the way up there with me, myself, and I. Of course, I did take Marie and Dani. Funny thought: Dani, Marie and Kitty…see the similarities? All of us end in the sound, _ee_. It was going to be a boy-free vacation, and it worked. Marie got off of work, and I picked up Dani on the way to the mountain. It was loads of fun. We listened to the radio. If it weren't for the anti-mutant things on the radio, we would have continued. Unfortunately, the radio nearly spoiled our mood. But, we got back to joking when Dani decided we were being too gloomy, and splashed me. I would have nearly driven off the road, except that as a mutant, I had learned to tune out mischief, because _some_ of us had problems with control. No, _certainly_ not me.

Anyway, I had a lot of fun on the mountain, but something funny happened. I went coasting down the mountain, and careened into a massive snow drift, phasing off my skiis. Dani came over to help me out, and it took a lot of digging because I broke my ankle and couldn't focus on phasing. When I got out, I just sat there when she hugged me, looking so relieved. She took me back on a ski mobile, and when we got back, I sat there and she got me a hot cocoa. She was just sitting there in front of me, slurping her cocoa too, and I noticed it. _She was cute_. I was staring, and she noticed, and she asked me what I was doing, and I just sat there and blushed like an idiot. Where had that thought come from? This is what's been bothering me all week, Makalani. It's another reason I didn't write. I can't figure out why I thought that, but I got the funny urge to lean over and give her a kiss, just like I used to do with Lance. Why the hell am I thinking this way? I probably acted really weird later. I hope I didn't offend her. I wonder if she thought the same thing.

I scurried right up the stairs (as well as I could with that ankle), and sat in my room for a long time while she got a doctor to tend to my ankle. It's nice, having a human doctor who isn't afraid of me. He doesn't even know I'm a mutant. My ankle still hurts, and I've been on a steady diet of food and sleep, interspersed with ibuprofen. We're still at the lodge, and we've got lots of what Hank calls "correspondence" from people. I wish Lance would stop sending me letters. I'm so over him…not. Sort of. Kind of. Yeah, didn't think it sounded like I was over him. Seriously, it's been a year since we gave dating another try, and broke up again. I like him, but he doesn't act right. He's twenty, and he drinks and does drugs. Remember when I used to be younger and I tried drugs, just that once? Eew. You'd think he'd give it up, because it was what made him slap me in the mall _waayyy_ back in this year.

Back to my problems with Dani. She's been really pushy, and guess what happened? She walked in here, and I kissed her. YES, I KISSED _DANIELLE MOONSTAR_! I hope she doesn't kill me, because I ran away right afterwards ( _again_ ), and locked myself in this closet. Poetic justice, or maybe irony…or something else. I'm not sure. They talk about coming out of the closet, and here I am, locked in my own closet, physically and figuratively. She probably hates me. What would Jean do? Or better yet, what would Ororo do? Ororo _always_ knows what to do. Hmmm…pep talk? Sounds like I could use one. Let's see…here goes:

Katherine Anne Pryde, Danielle is your best friend, I think. No way will she hate you for being lesbian. Or bisexual. Or whatever. So get out there and talk it out. She _probably_ will only be angry for a little bit.

Not working yet. Maybe I should try again…Nah, I won't. If the first try doesn't work, I don't imagine rereading my own words will help any. Whatever happened to positivity? Will she even still be my friend? Marie is outside the door: I guess I'll get out when she goes away. Time to face the music and whatnot.

 _A few hours later…_

SHE DOESN'T HATE ME! I went to talk to her, and I saw her sitting in the main room, reading. I walked in there, and she just asked me why I didn't tell her before, and she didn't tell anyone. I could hug Marie, if not for the no-touchy thing. She was the one who found me, even though I was planning on staying put in my closet, and she pulled me out. Then, she forced me into the main room, and made sure nobody was there. That's why we talked. So, I guess I'll finish catching you up on my life.

Mystique, Raven Darkholme, as we're supposed to call her, is still trying to mend broken ties with Marie and Kurt. Oh, and Amanda and Kurt finally got engaged, as of two days ago. Amanda says that Raven keeps trying to figure out whether she's worthy of Kurt, and finally, the pair gained Amanda's parents' permission to be engaged. It's pretty cool! Miss Darkholme (still not sure about calling her Miss, Ms. or Mrs.…) did move in, just for now, I hope. Mr. Aaron Gunner came for a visit again. I like it that our mutant revelation did nothing to change his opinion of us after that fiasco with Hank as Bigfoot. Aaron still teases him about it. David was located again, and I think the Prof wants to try to heal him. It would be nice. Jean said he seemed like a kind guy. Lucas, on the other hand, is like the kind of guy who would climb up a mountain, to the iciest parts, when the wind was blowing so hard you have to staple yourself to the rockface…to push you off. Nice guy.

Did I mention that Logan got knocked out? Pretty impressive blow, I guess. Not much can knock him out… All that happened, as far as he knows, is that he was knocked out, and regained consciousness a long time later, like an hour. Wow. I wonder how that happened. Oh, did I mention I've been having the most annoying headaches? I got a migraine a week ago. Ouch. Let's not forget that I've been having trouble with phasing. Really? Why does it have to go wonky now?

Jean's Phoenix has been busy around the world, killing lots of people. Pleasant. There was a massive fire in Porta Rico a few days ago. You'd never guess who started it. Yup! Phoenix. If When Jean ever wakes up, I wonder how she'll react.

Katherine Anne Pryde out.

 **How do you like this chapter? Yes, I've started putting in lots of POV changes, but I think it offers more perspective on the events. I hope I sounded like how an eighteen year old Kitty might sound. And the Kitty x Danielle Moonstar thing? I never saw one of these, but the idea's been in my head since I saw the episode, Ghost of a Chance, where Charles says that, because of what happened, Kitty and Dani have a special bond.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	17. Suicide

**I own nothing!**

 _Jean's Phoenix has been busy around the world, killing lots of people. Pleasant. There was a massive fire in Porta Rico a few days ago. You'd never guess who started it. Yup! Phoenix._ _If_ _When Jean ever wakes up, I wonder how she'll react._

Chapter 16: Suicide

Eel is the kind of guy who likes to kill people as long as they aren't children. Children are some of the few people he won't kill for any fee. Killing people is his life, though. His job is to get better at it than everyone, and he has quite a pretty store of money. It's in his nature to fight, and that's why the news that he has brain cancer that will consume his body is devastating. It's like a blow to the stomach and a shot to the heart all at once and he's fallingfallingfalling. His doctor is careful about telling him that it's fatal, but he already knows it is. He won't ever have a career again. He remembers how he'd chosen not to use his favorite tool for a recent murder. It was too heavy. When he failed his mission and barely got away with his life, he finally had proof. Something was wrong.

He has cancer. The thought is terrifying. He's sent other people to their deaths with barely a thought that his own life is in danger. But it is. He finds himself trying to do more work so he can prove that nothing's wrong with him, he's _fine_. Another day, another few breaths. He collapses on assignment. It gets worse. He's dizzy constantly, and he can only wish this weren't happening. The final proof is when he loses a fight against a policeman who's pretty fat. He escapes the car through trickery alone. When he gets home, he's spent. He feels mostly dead, and takes to lying on the couch all day, staring at the ceiling. He doesn't bother to get up. Why should he?

It's why he spent so much time looking at anticancer remedies, and spends a lot of money on them until he gives up. Then, a thought hits him one day as he lays on his couch. Does it matter which way he dies? Cancer doesn't have to conquer him. So he gets up and walks to his car, driving deep into the city. He parks his car beside a big rig, and gets out. He walks in the sunshine (how can the sun still be shining when he's dying?) all the way to a tall, metal bridge, suspended over a massive gulf, filled with water. He perches on the rail, and stands there, motionless. He knows what he'll do.

It barely takes any time to step over the rail, plunging downwards. He feels the wind flowing past him, and the surrounding imagery blurs. He spins, and he feels himself hit the water with a devastating thud. He can feel bones break from the impact. He's sinking, and the water is blurry. His mouth is open, and water pushes in. His mind automatically informs him that far more is wrong with him, which is unnecessary. He remembers what he's read about the proper way to jump off a bridge without intention to die. He knows that water has forced its way into his body, causing massive internal damage. He can feel it, a little. The world has grown fuzzy, and his eyes drift shut.

He wakes up. From the moment that happens, he knows something's wrong. He wasn't supposed to wake up. He can remember the impact of water, and the oxygen deprivation, so why is he still alive? He waits there, confused, using an expert poker face to conceal any anxiety. Finally, his questions are answered as a figure glides in through the door.

"Hello, Eel. I was rather surprised to find you attempting to kill yourself. One would think that, given your life, you would be strong enough to not attempt suicide." There is a mocking note in the stranger's voice. Eel can't see his face. It is hidden in shadows. "I am a straight-forward man, when I have that luxury. I have an offer. It will cure you, I promise."

Eel is silent for a few moments, before asking him to go on. A tiny bit of hope swells inside his chest. The figure does. "I have…acquired…the genes of several mutants who can heal themselves. In exchange for grafting their DNA onto yours, I would need you to serve me for five years, kill whoever I say to kill in exchange for your life. Deal?" The way he says it, Eel thinks that there's something behind the deal. He requests time to consider, and it is granted. He receives three days.

During those three days he agonizes over his choice. One the one hand, death, yet on the other hand, while he would be cured, he would be bound to obey the man. He didn't even recognize the man, though something was familiar. In the end, however, the will to survive was greater than the hatred of imprisonment. He accepts, shoving his misgivings deep under a façade of calm. The procedure will begin in a few days, and there will be no antiesthetic. He is warned: the process itself may kill him. He remains stubborn.

 **Like it? Hate it? Review it, please! Thanks!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	18. Flickers

**I own nothing!**

 _During those three days he agonizes over his choice. One the one hand, death, yet on the other hand, while he would be cured, he would be bound to obey the man. He didn't even recognize the man, though something was familiar. In the end, however, the will to survive was greater than the hatred of imprisonment. He accepts, shoving his misgivings deep under a façade of calm. The procedure will begin in a few days, and there will be no antiesthetic. He is warned: the process itself may kill him. He remains stubborn._

Chapter 17: Flickers

Waves of heat surround Phoenix, and flames of destruction surround it. Like a toddler, "she" as it has come to think of itself because of the perceptions of Grey, enjoys watching things crumble and break. She likes to see the fear people have of her. It makes her feel…powerful. The sensation is delicious. She would compare it to eating her favorite food, except that she doesn't eat. This human body doesn't need the food. Not with an Idea, a ghostly Idea in control. The food that she craves is the fear. The precious wishes that increase to the most powerful desire, the desire to live, what humans call the will to survive, as the children cower in terror, auras flexing, unaware that they stick out like sore thumbs against the non-life around them.

For Phoenix can sense life. She is, after all, a ghost based on desire. What human cannot desire things? Of course, this is a special kind of life, almost like _nephesh_ , as the Greeks called it. Breath. Plants don't have it, cells don't possess it. A whole human, an animal, a ghost or spirit? These possess it. They must have the minds for it.

A smile slides across her face as she spots a child, about ten, creeping out of the rubble of his destroyed house. She walks forward, pulling the flames into her body until the only sign that she isn't human is the faint glow that surrounds her, barely noticeable in the sunlight. The child looks up, and scoots away, terrified. He has learned to be wary of any and all beings save his own relatives and friends. He doesn't make it far. His left leg is broken, as testified by the angle of the knee. She approaches, offering reassuring noises. She can feel the way Grey tries to stop her, but it doesn't work. The boy relaxes, but still whimpers as she kneels next to him. She tells him the pain will be over soon. He tells her his name is Morgan Richards.

She gives him calm, letting herself emanate it. Finally, her hands settle on his left, broken leg. One on the thigh, the other on the calf. Her hands flicker with flames and he begins to shriek as his leg starts to char. She enjoys his struggles as he begs to be released between pained screams. Soon, the only thing that remains of his leg is bone and blood. His leg is numb, her having burned all the verve endings. The pain is over for that leg. He lies still, panting, only conscious because of the pain elsewhere in his body. She plants her hands once again, this time all over his body. They burn prints into his bare skin. His flesh pinks, reddens, blackens, and melts from the heat. He continues to scream. When he loses the fight for consciousness, she waits.

She waits still longer. Patience, she knows, will make his death all the more pleasing. As she waits, she wanders the ruins. She torches more buildings, enjoying the heat that rises off of them with green flames. The green of desire. She doesn't know why humans think that green means life and jealousy. Honestly, that's only a surface thought. People desire life, and jealousy is, by definition, desire of what someone or something else has. The flames appear orange sometimes, but to her, the green undertones are obvious. The humans don't admire the works she gives them. They run in terror, not that that bothers her a bit.

She hunts the ruins for more people, and enjoys the way they gravitate to her. She finds a woman, the only one who makes it in good condition out of her house, and forces her to walk towards Phoenix. The can hear the woman's thoughts. Her name is Leah Walker, and she doesn't understand why the world is so complicated, or why her husband had to die, or even why she's walking towards the red-headed stranger. As she walks, Phoenix focuses on her head, hard. Suddenly, the woman's hands grip her head, and she screams. It barely takes any time. Her head implodes, and she drops to the ground, dead.

Finally, the boy awakens, and Phoenix decides to be merciful. He will die quickly now. She plants both hands on his chest and lets her flames burn again. He no longer pleas for death. He lies there, not affording her any pleasure. Boring. She wants to hear him cry out one more time, and makes her flames burn slower. It starts again. She is aware of beings approaching her on both sides, massive robots (sentinels, Grey calls them), and ghosts. She has enough time. She'll finish burning him first. Her hands sink through the skin he had, but don't go far.

Suddenly, she notices pain in her own chest. Has she overextended herself? Surely not. She glances down, and it is in that moment that she sees it. The tip of a sword protrudes though her core, or at least the part of her where her core is, and yet it still pulsates. It hurts. This is the first pain she's felt since she doesn't know when. She waits there, confused, for a moment, before she realizes what the sword means. Her mortal form is being destroyed, as is her core. The only reason the _body_ is still alive is the fact that a ghost dwells within it, keeping the mind and body alive. She doesn't have time to scream anyways. She feels Grey tearing at her mind, fighting hard, feeding off her ectoplasm. The shortage only hastens the inevitable as the sword (an Ancient's sword, she realizes) peels her soul away. The pain is too much for a scream, though her face twists with agony and she doubles over, over the body of the boy who lies, staring at her, shock and relief in equal measures on his face.

Suddenly, her soul is consumed and everything goes dark. She no longer truly exists. She floats in nothingness, can feel no part of herself. Her mind is all there is. Then, as the reason for her very existence is taken away, her soul implodes as the body which she inhabited catches fire. She doesn't see what happens to the boy. She can only guess. She vaguely feels her qualities join the _mana_ in the sword which grant it its power. Then, no more.

* * *

Daniel sighs as he looks at the presents he's gotten from his students and a few other people. He has a gift from Dora. He doesn't feel like opening it. He doesn't feel like opening his presents at all. This reminds him that he almost never feels like Christmas.

His core gives a particularly painful throb, though he pushes it aside, returning to the pile of papers which he stares at blankly. He has a solution, at last. The formula is complete. He wonders why he doesn't feel victory at his fingertips. He wonders about calling the council. Finally, he picks up the phone and dials the number he needs. Nobody answers. Not a surprise, considering the day. He leaves a message, short, snippy, and to the point.

He stumbles, rising from his chair as his stomach rumbles discontentedly. What will he eat? He has no idea. A look in the fridge reveals no food. Tilting his head to the side, he tries to recall the last time he ate. He can't. He knows that on Monday of this week he had a sandwich, but that was two days ago. Now, it's Wednesday. It's the last meal he can remember. His hands shake from hunger and weakness, reminding him uncomfortably of the flu he caught. As he walks towards his truck, hoping something is open, he notes that his knees are shaking as well. He makes a note. Next time he goes into an obsessive activity, he'll try to remember to eat. Then again, he always says that. It's a prime example of his hyperfocus. Sometimes, that happens to him.

Daniel jumps into his truck and cruises around town. A brief perusal of the city's stores reveals what he suspected. Nothing is open. He temporarily contemplates driving to somebody's house (or floating, depending), but dismisses the thought. It would be incredibly rude. He turns around and drives the long way back to his house, observing the snowy areas. It's a white Christmas. He knows that those are normally thought of as a blessing, but he doesn't see that. He observes people playing in the snow, and he's glad to get home, away from them. Scrooge is one thing he could be called. He wonders if Scrooge had another reason for not liking Christmas.

He parks in front of his house, cuts the engine, and walks back to the house. The very atmosphere is saddening and oppressive. He finds it hard to breath. He ignores it and settles on the couch, determined to tune out everything, even the hunger. He gets back up, restless, and checks the pantry. The search reveals nothing. He turns around, tired, and goes back to the couch. He wraps the blankets around himself, even though they don't really have much of an effect on him. It's really more for security. His core gives another pang. He closes his eyes and pushes away from the world around him, focusing on the area around himself and on visualizing anything except the bits and pieces that fight for his attention. It's a losing battle, and he remembers things he normally represses.

Suddenly, he's on the floor, doubled over, clutching his chest. It burns. Worse than burns. His entire being is subjected to a horrendous tearing sensation within his chest, which rapidly spreads to his entire body. It's worse than anything he's ever felt. He would compare it to being crushed, boiled, beaten, and strangled, were he able to. He cries out, but it exits like a wail, at a frequency that nobody but he can hear, which doesn't affect the house, other than some of the glass, luckily. The pain leaves him immobilized. His eyes clench tightly shut, struggling to find a way out of the pain.

His last comprehensible, cohesive, coherent thought as he leaves the realm of the conscious is, _Merry Christmas, me_.

 **Like it? Hate it? Review it, please! By the way, as obvious, the ghosts just killed her. The whole sword thing was made up (as of yesterday) so I hope it isn't too silly. Thanks!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	19. Woken

**I own nothing!**

 _His last comprehensible, cohesive, coherent thought as he leaves the realm of the conscious is, Merry Christmas, me._

Chapter 18: Woken

Daniel slips in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of his surroundings, sometimes not. A few times, he almost tries to get up, before deciding to stay where he is. A single movement sends jarring pain through the center of his being. He is aware of warm tracks of water that trail down his cheeks and into his mouth, leaving a salty taste behind. A pit lies inside his stomach, hunger unabated. Worse than that is the liquid lightning that sears through his chest. Exhaustion forces him into a comatose state in an effort to preserve life and avoid expenditure of energy. Any small movement is precious energy lost.

He is in a white room, tinted faintly with blue, though one wall is made almost entirely of glass. There's a chair, and monitors attached to him, including a little IV cord. He is alarmed for a few moments, half expecting his parents, before he recognizes that this room is different. Then, he is alarmed for other reasons. His eyes flitter towards the monitors, checking his pulse and breathing, where he discovers, to his relief, worry, and astonishment, that everything is normal…for a human. Even his temperature. He is held down with straps that, given careful movement, he can manipulate his wrists out of.

It takes him a long time to grasp that he needs to get up after he takes care of the immediate need of escape from the bindings, instead of lying there. It takes almost as long for him gather the energy and willpower to do so. He staggers to his feet, swaying, hand clutched tight over his chest, gritting his teeth together and moaning softly. He uses a chair to support himself. He stumbles into an unfamiliar bathroom, checking himself for injuries, seeing bandages. A clock he doesn't recognize reads 12:04:56, 01/02. It's been over a week without food. The clock doesn't add the year's number, because it isn't supposed to. It does, however, have seconds. He carefully removes the cloth strips.

Gazing at his injuries, an idea tingles in the back of his head, connected with the lack of powers, but when he tries to bring it into actual thought, it fades. His shirt is missing, and he thanks Clockwork that the scars are gone, even if fingernails mark his body. He doesn't remember what exactly happened, but he knows what caused it, and tries to shove the idea out of his head harshly, fighting to ignore the pain racing throughout his body. He fingers his side, where incisions have been made ( _surgery_ , he thinks) and realizes his ribs are broken. He guesses rightfully that he broke them with his own thrashing, and puts the hospital gown back on.

Daniel reenters the room, and scans it for clues. He notes a mark on the wall, and a button that says to push it. He doesn't. Another look around reveals unusual medical equipment, in comparison to the normal things a human hospital would have. He decides it's time to see what happened, and where he is. Limping, he puts on a pair of jeans that he hopes were meant for him. A shirt is there, as well, which follows the definition of fitting very loosely. A belt finishes his attire, and he runs his hands through his hair, attempting to smooth it properly in vain. It does stop being quite so spikey, however. A little smile finds its way across his face as he ventures out, aware that he shouldn't. Of course, he does many things he shouldn't do. This is only the most recent, and far from the first time he's done something of this sort.

Daniel uses his best blending-in skills without turning intangible to avoid being spotted, but is stopped none-the-less by his ribs and a rug. The rib pain distracts him, and the rug trips him, sending him sprawling ungracefully across the floor, making his injuries hurt more. He doesn't get up for a few moments, and by then, it's far too late. A man (Logan, Daniel identifies him), moves around the corner, looking worried by the solid thud Danny made. He freezes on seeing Daniel, but walks over and helps him up when Daniel has trouble rising.

"What er ya doin' up?" Logan asks, worry etched across his face, though disguised.

"Where am I? The institute? And how did I get here?" Danny responds with his own questions, before adding, "I was tired of lying on my back." Not that he'll mention he'd only done that for a few minutes before anxiety drove him to his feet.

"Yer at th' Institute, an' Kurt kin' better answer yer last question. Ya should get back t' bed. Hank says y' got hurt bad." Logan still expresses concern, even though Daniel tries to pretend he doesn't hurt pretty badly. He refuses to return to bed, and is instead lured down to talk to Hank and 'Chuck', as Logan calls Professor Charles Xavier sometimes.

It is a short walk, which ends in the 'office' area, like a principal's office. Daniel settles into a chair, aware, as Hank and Charles turn their faces towards him after a presumably long discussion on what to say, that this is going to be a long and lie-filled talk. Great. He hates lying, but he doesn't feel up to admitting to what he is, or even like trying to explain it in mutant terms.

Charles offers him a polite, though worried smile, and Daniel wonders how this conversation will start. His anxiety is soon laid to rest as Charles says, "Hello, Daniel." Hank nods, agreeing. "Are you aware of what happened?" It is an open-ended question, to which Daniel can only hope he will find the right answer.

"I have some knowledge of it, sir, but not much. How badly was I hurt?" Using professional and respectful terms makes him feel more at ease.

Hank comes in here, listing the injuries. "Bruises, lacerations across the chest area, broken ribs, mild hypothermia, blood loss, and a concussion. Also, malnutrition." Daniel blinks slightly at the end, shocked to some degree over the severity of the damage he'd inflicted on himself. "How did this occur?"

Oh, damn. What is he supposed to say? He can read the expectations in the way Hank and Charles act. They think it was self-inflicted, intentionally. Nice. He nearly says, _there's a perfectly logical explanation, but I haven't thought of it yet_. Instead, he manages to say, "I don't actually entirely know. Bits and pieces of what must have happened come to mind, but I don't have a complete idea." Truth. He doesn't remember everything.

"What do you remember?" Charles poses the question, before adding a new set. "What were you doing over Christmas break that made you not eat enough? When did this occur?"

Daniel's reflexes make him answer questions in the order they seem most logical to answer in. He blushes, strategically answering the middle question before all the others. He hopes to distract them with half-truths. "Well…" He gulps slightly, embarrassment not faked at all. "Before you ask, I could have gotten the food I needed, except that I blame my terrible habits." He rubs the back of his neck, before forcing the gesture to stop. He did that when he was a teen, and he doesn't like it when he accidentally does it now. "I kind-of forgot to eat." His explanation speeds itself up. "A few days before Christmas, actually. Hyperfocus, I believe it's called. By the time I remembered to eat, it was Christmas, and everything was closed."

"But why didn't you eat later?" Hank seems skeptical of his explanation. "How long ago exactly did this start?"

"The hyperfocus in this incident?" Daniel receives a nod, and continues. "I think the twenty-third, more or less."

"That's been more than a week!" The Professor interjects, appearing stunned.

Hank gives Danny a look that put him back on subject. "That connects with what I remember." He answered flatly. Determination in their eyes assures him that they will know if he's trying to avoid answering, and he is forced to answer. "Fine. Like I said, I don't know what happened. I was planning on sleeping while I waited for everything to open, and I was about to fall asleep when I woke up. That's the part where I have trouble remembering stuff." Another look forces him to continue. "I just remember that my chest hurt, but I don't remember falling off the couch. I remember screaming, but I don't remember moving. I really have no idea what happened, just that I hurt a lot." His voice softens at the end, and he adds, "Are we finished?"

No more questions come, but Daniel insists he wants to know who found him, and in what condition he was. The Professor calls Kurt in, who puffs into the room with a pop.

"Vhat do you vant?" He asks, curious, until he spots Daniel. "I suppose you vant to know vhat happened, correct?"

"Please do tell, Kurt. He does want to know." The Professor answers for Danny.

Kurt nervously settles into a chair, as well, before beginning. "I vent to your _haus_ a few days ago, because of the over-Christmas assignments you gave me, to help me prepare for ze college maths, to help me remember how to do it. I needed help with a problem, and ze phone vasn't a _gut_ place to get it.

"Ze _haus_ vas unlocked, so I vent in after knocking, vhen you didn't answer. I looked around, and found you in ze den. You veren't conscious, and your shirt had holes in it. You ver bleeding, and I panicked for a bit before I teleported you here. It vas ze sirty-firsht. You ver unconscious for sri days, in a coma for two."

Daniel thinks for a moment, before saying, "I hope you verent too traumitised," with a teasing smile, before going over his sentence with the thought that something was wrong with it. "Oh, sorry. I accidentally imitated vor _your_ accent." He flushes a little, irritated with himself for the habit. They, of course, know of that habit, and find it amusing. If someone speaks with an accent, he will often subconsciously imitate it. Last time he did it, he was mimicking Mystique's British accent, and the entire thing had made Charles's accent trigger. It had ended with quite a few students laughing at them.

He shoves the thought away as he is invited downstairs for supper later, but only after he gets a little inspection by Hank. Hank drags him away (minus the dragging part), and carries out said inspection, meanwhile lecturing him on why he should take better care of himself. And, Hank tries to convince him to submit to a barrage of tests to figure out about the chest pain. Daniel manages to refuse every one. Unfortunately, he nearly doesn't get to attend supper when another painful attack hits without warning, and he blacks out, body jerking uncontrollably.

He only barely manages to convince Hank he's fine, or at least well enough to attend a meal, after that. After supper he crashes into bed, wondering how he will cope with the coming Monday, tomorrow, which he has woken just in time for. School will start back. He hasn't prepared any lessons, even if he knows what to cover.

 **Like it or hate it? Review it, please! I am so sorry this chapter came late. Inspiration didn't hit until yesterday, and it took me until later to find the right formatting and order of events. For a while, I thought the first part took place at his home, but decided against it…**

 **-MiaulinK**


	20. Teaching Complications

**I own nothing!**

 _He only barely manages to convince Hank he's fine, or at least well enough to attend a meal, after that. After supper he crashes into bed, wondering how he will cope with the coming Monday, tomorrow, which he has woken just in time for. School will start back. He hasn't prepared any lessons, even if he knows what to cover._

Chapter 19: Teaching Complications

While ordinarily Daniel would wake up at unreasonably early hours (for him) and remain in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, when he wakes up, the clock blinking across the room at him reads 4:30am. He never sleeps this late, unless he has a severe headache or something. He pushes himself to get up, stumbling, slowly settling his feet on the floor, chills running up his spine from the cold it radiates. Once again, he is annoyed. _Too cold_. He has trouble remembering how he used to stand it. He feels unreasonably tired, like one would after attempting to run a half-marathon with no training. He went to bed early. There's no reason for him to be so tired.

Daniel slips into the shower, automatically spending only a little time in there, bandaging his injuries over, again. Painful, but useful. His expert binding is on par with people who do it for a living. Then again, he does it for a _life_. If he hadn't figured out bandaging, he would have been a much deader Phantom. His ribs still burn. He combs his hair and chooses a pair of jeans. At some point, he'd convinced Kurt to pop him over to his house yesterday for clothes. This is one of the shirts he uses that he calls "injury shirts." Dark red, they provide the perfect cover for if any stitches get torn. They are also a little loose to accommodate bandaging. His pants are carefully arranged today, to minimize pain.

He gives himself a once-over, and moves on to the few morning exercises he allows himself to do. This consists of cleaning his room, and leaving it, heading for the doors. He walks around the mansion once, which is nearly enough to tire him too much, before heading inside. He remembers what they said they usually had for breakfast, knowing that the major influx of children will be at about 6:00am, as they attempt to fill their ravenous mostly teen-aged stomachs. A light drizzle from his walk means that he is damp from both the shower and it when Hank catches him sitting cross-legged on the ground, propped against the couch, reading. What he reads is the Physics book, working to remember what he needs to cover. He already read through the parts he needed for his other classes.

When Hank clears his throat and says, "Good morning," Daniel jumps badly, reminding him how rare it is that anyone sneaks up on him.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Hank. What are you doing up so early?" Daniel raises his eyebrows and clutches his chest in an over exaggerated expression of shock.

"I'd ask the same thing of you." Hank stated, looking amused by his melodramatic reaction.

"This isn't early for me. Usually, though, people don't get up at the times I get up at. Five-thirty? Amazing, considering." Watching people is one of the more entertaining activities Daniel has taken up, and Hank is always interesting, because observing people with different features adds to the difficulty of discerning what they think, and what their goals are. It presents a unique challenge.

"I usually get up this early. How long have you been up?" Hank enquires.

"Four-thirty. I slept in a little." Danny flushes a little. "I'm still tired. Usually, I'm not this exhausted."

"4:30? How is that sleeping in?"

"I normally get up at four, or earlier. It really just depends on how I feel, and if I can get back to sleep."

"Had much breakfast yet?"

"Little to none. I've still got to prepare my lessons and review so I know where everyone's supposed to be."

"You should eat, and you will also _not_ be teaching today. You aren't in good enough condition. Been outside?" Hank appears stubborn, so Daniel doesn't object.

"Yes, sir. I took a little walk. Decided not to finish it when the rain got worse." Daniel plucks at his shirt a little, showing how damp it is.

"You should change, you know. It isn't healthy to sit around in wet clothes." Hank asserts. "And no need to call me sir."

"Don't worry; it probably won't hurt me this time." Daniel offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Go eat something." Hank orders.

Danny obeys, stomach empty from a night without food. He pokes around in the fridge, asks what he is allowed to eat, and takes out some milk, a boiled egg, a sandwich, and a slice of cold ham. He makes quick work of it, brushes his teeth, combs his hair again because the wind mussed it, and shaves a thin layer of stubble that he's sure he's never seen. He rarely has to shave because of being a ghostly human. By the time he's finished, the children are stirring, and most of the adults are awake, fixing their breakfasts.

He dodges them and grabs his physics book, starting to pack everything. Soon, everything is in its place (at 6:30), and Daniel notes that he needs to leave soon to prepare his classroom. After all, everything was taken down for Christmas break, and it takes fifteen minutes to drive to his usual parking spot, a short distance from the school. He walks downstairs, finished packing, and heads for the door, limping a little. His ribs' aching is obnoxious. He wishes they'd hurry up and heal already.

"What er ya doin'?" The tone is mildly accusatory, and comes from Logan, whom Daniel heard in his room fairly early as well.

Oh dear. He's been caught. Daniel rotates in his direction with a smidgen of annoyance. He _had_ to get caught. "Going to school. I need to arrive soon to set everything up."

Logan raises his eyebrows skeptically, and says, "Ya shouldn't be goin' anywhere. Yer still not lookin' good."

"Thanks," Danny responds dryly, before adding, "Maybe I shouldn't, but I will."

Hank attempts to intercept him, saying that if he goes, he's sure to feel terrible later, and Daniel makes calculations to decide what to do. Finally, he responds firmly, "I've gone places in worse condition. Not the hospital, either. Places like school and the mall. I'm certain this won't be the time that kills me."

Daniel walks out the door, ignoring them, and settling inside his vehicle. A flicker of worry over how they might take his comment is brushed off as well as it can be-for now. It strikes him as entertaining that he finally cleaned the truck out, though only as a result of having to stay at the mansion for now. He sets his bin in the back, closed tightly, and cranks the car. A moment later, Ororo calmly opens the door, and informs him that there is no way he will go anywhere without someone to keep an eye on him. Great. The immature part of him wants to bang his head against the steering wheel. Instead, he sighs, and asks her why she's coming. She tells him it's because he so stubbornly insists on teaching. She's going to make sure he's alright, and while she won't stick with him all day, he is to call her mentally if he gets into trouble.

Daniel gives her a puzzled look, because Ororo isn't a telepath. He learns that she is playing the role of telepathic anchor and driver, if he needs help. Kurt is headed back to college, so he can't teleport him to a hospital or the healing wing in the mansion. Daniel settles inside, setting everything up as quickly as possible. Of course, one of the posters he puts up tries to come down. Out of force of habit, Daniel pulls a tack out of the tack box he has, and throws it across the room, pinning the poster down before it can fall all of the way. Ororo just stares a little, while he sheepishly rubs his neck, embarrassed. The poster was nearly five feet away. Oops…

After that, however, the day goes as planned, students not even noticing that he limps. He smiles at their sheer obliviousness. It's quite amazing, really. Or maybe they notice, but they don't feel like enquiring. In the end, however, the day goes very well.

 **Like it? Hate it? Yes, I summarized his day in five sentences. Do I get a prize?**

 **-MiaulinK**


	21. Breath

**I have a beta reader:** **Chicaalterego** **! I'm going over previous chapters to fix them up some, but when I get the chapter that was supposed to come next, I'll post it, no matter what day I get it on, on the day I find it finished. I will also have a new chapter ready before Tuesday of next week. I think for a short time updates may occur faster than once a week because I've hit an inspiration point. Ps: I own nothing.**

 _He doesn't want to move, and can't persuade his body to obey him until Hank enters, and his noise and attempts to converse with Daniel break the glass barrier down. Finally, he can force his body to move again. Twitches jerk though his body in pulsating reminders that movement is painful. His ribs appear to want to kill him as much as his obsession does._

Chapter 20: Breath

Daniel Williams stands in front of the mirror in the bathroom, looking at himself. The vast majority of the scars he has are gone. A healing factor is a blessing, sometimes. His hand closes over a recent injury caused by a knife. Admittedly, it was somewhat intentional, but he needs confirmation. Bright, silvery red blood drips from the small gaps between his fingers. Lands, spotting the floor. It's still there. His chest still burns, but mostly in attacks. It's been a week since he woke up, and he's had nineteen of them.

Daniel looks at the cut closely, hoping to see something. The silvery blood isn't clotting yet. It hasn't even become syrupy. As the confirmation is given, he feels like the air has been knocked out of him. His core throbs for a moment. Almost desperately, he struggles to transform, but can't. Nothing happens. His core throbs, and his thoughts tell him what his heart had denied until now: his powers aren't working at all. He hasn't healed, and he's been too easy to startle. He can't feel other people coming. He almost hyperventilates, but forces it down, binding his hand tightly.

This proves it. His obsession has finally broken. After years of strain every time he failed, his outright betrayal of his obsession has taken effect. He clenches his hand tightly, pushing back the slight fuzziness that lingers around the edges of his vision day after day since the council-the day he essentially killed Jean. It's hard to believe that less than a month has passed. He grimly wonders how Drake got everything together and found something that would end an Emotion Ghost. It can't have been anything less than a real ending. His tearing mind tells him that surely he cannot have sacrificed his life for nothing.

There are a few things he can be thankful for. No panic attacks, no obsessive attacks in school, not getting caught. On the other hand, he feels worse with every attack. Each one does worse to his mind, and to his body. His ribs feel permanently broken. His mind? Well, one way of putting it is that he sometimes has trouble telling apart reality from his own mind's imaginings. At least that one mostly visits in the late evenings. The soul-deep exhaustion doesn't go away: it's like, with every day he goes on, it increases. He may have to stop teaching temporarily, or even forever. His ears buzz almost as much as his mind and vision, distracting him constantly. He refuses to sit still. Sitting still for too long could mean the end of his attempts to ignore the pain.

Daniel stumbles into bed late that night, mind recalling all the information about breaking obsessions it contains. He remembers what Dorthea told him once, about her father. He broke his obsession, keeping their kingdom out of war. At first, they had thought it was simply sickness. Then it got worse. He sank in and out of consciousness and lashed out at anything and everything. They only realized exactly what it was when he tore his own chest open in an effort to reach his core and rip it out. They prevented it, but he ended anyway, broken and insane.

Daniel knows why he wanted to tear his core out. Even now he feels the impulse, almost feels his slow decent into insanity. School keeps him from losing it completely, because he still has children to protect, but each of his attacks is progressively worse. According to Hank, the most recent one involved knocking several teachers out, which leads Daniel to conclude that it was mixed with a panic attack. Charles had to subdue him, though he didn't peek into the memory section, luckily for Daniel. They eye him with caution, and Hank tells him he won't be going to teach, soon. Next week, he claims. They don't realize that teaching is the only reason he's still sane in any measure.

Daniel's mind is a nearly endless movie that doesn't let him go, even in the depths of sleep. Vivid nightmares plague him, and he tosses and turns, dreaming of his death. The one that wakes him up tonight is drowning. He is tied under a river, held down. No matter how much he struggles, the weight won't let him up until he wakens with a soft wheeze, terror coursing through his body. For a moment, he relaxes. Then he realizes he's choking. His lungs won't take in air, and he panics. He thrashes frenetically against the covers, wondering why he can't breathe, projecting panic into the mind of the telepath who sleeps at the end of the dorm hall thing.

Charles Xavier wakens with a start as waves of panic wash over him. It takes him several moments to ascertain who is projecting so much, and realizes it is Mr. Williams. Mr. Williams is odd, for a human. Charles is worried, considering how he used to act, compared to now. If he didn't know better, he would suspect Mr. Williams was mentally ill. However, it was highly unlikely, considering his past track record. Charles calls for Hank, waking him in his room, and telling him what he knew about the situation. Hank first goes to Charles to bring the wheelchair, before heading towards the room where Mr. Williams sleeps.

Daniel is breathless, but the panic is dying as he struggles to think of what to do. His thoughts are moving slower, as are his body's movements. His mouth hangs open and he fights for breath. No air enters. His lungs burn with fire, but he doesn't feel anything else. His body stops thrashing in favor of little twitches and tremors. He recalls what he knows about asphyxiation. It won't take long for him to lose consciousness. Overwhelming calm fills him as he stops struggling, unable to bring in any air anyway. He gives up. Time passes. He doesn't know how long.

Tunnel vision takes over, and Daniel barely hears the door open, and a cautious, "Mr. Williams? Are you alright?" It's kind of funny. He is in no way alright. He's choking to death, and they don't even realize it. When he doesn't respond, the indistinct form of Hank materializes in front of him. He can't focus, and as Hank leans over, worry clouding his features, darkness pushes at him, pulling him deeper.

The darkness only lasts for a few seconds as Hank realizes the problem and attempts to make Daniel's lungs resume their function. He is confused by the lack of obstruction, so he gives Daniel's chest a sharp thump that forces a little wheeze out. A tiny breath goes in, but not enough. The thump reawakens Daniel. Another thump and Daniel feels his lungs push in a breath. The tunnel recedes a little, and with focus, his lungs start to operate properly, leaving him flat on his back, gasping, barely conscious. For another few seconds he passes out before resuming his attempts to breath. His lungs cut out a few more times, but he finally stops gasping.

"T-thanks." He manages, voice raspy.

"What happened?" This is starting to become a common question.

"I…I couldn't b-breath." The stutter isn't from nervousness, just from airlessness. He coughs weakly before finally finishing recovery. "Sorry if I scared you. I haven't had an attack like that since I was fourteen." He's pretty sure that's when it was, when his abilities were still struggling to integrate with his human body, before a balance had been struck. Now he suspects that it's because of his abilities withdrawing. His body is still anatomically half-ghost, as is his brain, but his body requires more human elements with the ghostly element not working. He can't breathe fast enough for his oxygen needs.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Charles pushes.

"I used to have attacks sometimes where I couldn't breathe. I thought I'd outgrown them. I guess I was wrong." Daniel manages a weak smile. "Don't worry. Next time, I'll try to remember to fall off the bed." He only gets a blank look for the joke. "Never mind."

"Do you need to go to the hospital unit?" Hank enquires.

"No thanks. I'm fine now."

They leave with trepidation, probably thinking that he's going to die the moment they leave.

Morning is glorious-if only because Daniel survived the night. It takes a while for him to acclimatize to Sundays here, because it's so quiet. Peaceful. He sequesters himself inside the library, reading what he can, processing it quickly. He hates being uninformed, so he keeps himself in the loop this way. Bored? Yes. Learning? Yes. He winds up serving as a temporary tutor for Jamie, who hates Algebra as much as Daniel used to hate English. He also considers the possibility that he may no longer have powers. The idea is frightening, but he forces himself to deal with it by pushing it to the back of his mind.

No attacks strike until after lunch, when one strikes without warning, leaving him breathless. It hits in combination with a core attack, so the oxygen deprivation prevents him from hurting anyone. It hits in the bathroom, and he is lucky that he starts breathing while unconscious. At least it could have ended worse. He receives a call from Kelly, who wants to know how he is (Daniel summarizes), and tells him that something is coming. He feels it in his bones. Something is wrong. Daniel doesn't question it. Kelly can be downright uncanny when it comes to things like this, but he interprets it as mutant wrong, not human wrong, which biases him automatically. He does tell Daniel about his baby daughter. He is amazingly proud of her, and adds that the Phoenix is dead. Danny doesn't say he knew it all along. The call ends.

Daniel falls into a deep trance within minutes of the phone call's end. His eyes feel heavy, and his head is falling onto his chest, and the noise inside his head isn't letting him go. He finds himself captured by the insanity that dwells within his mind like a rotting, oozing, yellow infectious mass, seething with the thoughts he struggles to protect himself from. He struggles briefly, but cannot resist its pull. He is submerged beneath it, unable to escape, and nearing giving up. Why should he fight back anymore? His mind already feels as though torn in two separate directions. Why should he continue, unable to forever resist? Dimly, he notes that the pain has increased again, and that his hands even now begin to tighten into claw-like shapes, pain urging instincts to _make the pain stop._

 **How do you like it? Please remember to write a review in the box below this! Thanks!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	22. Blood

**I own nothing!**

 _He finds himself captured by the insanity that dwells within his mind like a rotting, oozing, yellow infectious mass, seething with the thoughts he struggles to protect himself from. He struggles briefly, but cannot resist its pull. He is submerged beneath it, unable to escape, and nearing giving up. Why should he fight back anymore? His mind already feels as though torn in two separate directions. Why should he continue, unable to forever resist? Dimly, he notes that the pain has increased again, and that his hands even now begin to tighten into claw-like shapes, pain urging instincts to_ make the pain stop _._

Chapter 21: Blood

Darkness encompasses Daniel. It is no mere darkness, as of the midnight sky. This tears at him, pulls him, slits his mind in a thousand directions as he gives up. The nothingness is silent, and he feels nothing save the pain his own mind forces himself to endure.

 _/Failed-didn'ttryhardenough-broken-dying-pain/_

The almost nameless entity fights the voices. Daniel can barely cling to his identity. He writhes within his own mind, whimpering without the ability to stop the pain.

 _/Shouldhavediedforher-failure-useless-yourstudentandyoudidn'tstopher/_

He screams. Screams that tear at his throat, and a sensation from the physical world reaches him. A pain worse than pain. Even his mental form shudders, moans. This is pain unlike any other he's ever felt. Pain that forces him to only cling to existence. Why is he being punished this way? Images of failures pass through his mind.

 _/Sam'sbrokenbleedingbleedingbleedingbody-flames-pain-screaming/_

 _/ScreamingTuckerholedeep-failed-lostforever-allyourfault/_

 _/Jazzdeadscreamingpainflamesburningburningburning-STOP!/_

More screaming issues from his throat. He fades. He's failed. His mind dims. His core burns, and he wishes it would stop. He wishes he could stop. The pain is killing him, but his mind won't fade. He feels the effects of the pain as shudders ripple through his mind, and memories are set loose, free to wreak havoc wherever they chose to do so. This means him only. The memories take over, and he curls up, near crushing his head, rocking, no longer fighting. The memories are too much for him to fight and win. They play endlessly through his mind.

 _/Bloodeverywhere-redeyesredredredeyes-death-death-failed-dying-killkillkillthemallnow/_

His body convulses, before he continues rocking. Do not kill. Do not kill. Do not kill. He is almost paralyzed by pain. His fingers dig into his skull. Blood drips down from the new cuts, rivulets running down his face like scarlet tears.

Daniel's lips shape words quietly, words that don't make it past his vocal chords. Words that turn to screams, which change to silence as the pain rushes though his skull, freezing his body. His mind goes to chaos. He stops movement completely, staring blankly into space. He no longer perceives the inner world of his mind, nor even the outer world of his body. Once again nothingness fills him. He is nothing.

Daniel's existence fades slowly, from barely there to deep within himself. He retracts as far as possible from the source of his pain, abandoning everything. He shrinks into the smallest ball he can. All his memories are pulled in around him, raging inside his agonized mind. His mind begins the slow, painful process of fading away completely. Ending. His core, even now, begins to implode. Nothing can replace the hole Daniel took out of it by failing. His body is ending itself. He feels only relief before he loses awareness.

* * *

Jamie hums as he walks up the stairs. His notes fall into the minors as he plots methods by which he can exact revenge on Hank for making him continue to take Algebra. Why couldn't lessons be called off because of the Phoenix? Oh, that's right, because he needs an _education_. He is on his way to a lesson with Mr. Williams, and has every intention of taking as long as possible. Why take Algebra when you can goof off? This is a Sunday: it should be a crime for anyone to have to go to class. Some classes don't pause for weekends, like Danger Room sessions. Apparently, they're too important "for the training of young mutants such as yourself". Jamie huffs as he remembers the Professor saying that. Is he actually scheming with Logan to break every bone in their bodies?

Jamie finally arrives in the library. Time to find Mr. Williams. Should he go back and say he was unable to find him, so he couldn't do his Algebra? Somehow, he suspects the adults would see through that excuse. He grumbles under his breath, moving down row after row. No sign of him yet. Jamie's stomach growls, reminding him that supper will be late tonight. He decides to grab a bag of chips after class.

Finally, Jamie hears something. It's an odd sort of sound, a whimper, breathless, pained. He turns the corner of another bookshelf. Nobody. He turns again, and stumbles into a nightmare. It's Mr. William. Was Mr. Williams. It's hard to tell if he's even still alive. Jamie's eyes travel from the drawn tight eyebrows and parted lips, inevitably, to the crimson blood pumping out of a hole in his chest. Blood-caked fingernails, partially torn out, and a shredded shirt fill in Jamie's imagination. Blood soaks the carpet in a pool turned brownish because of drying and the brown carpet. Only the relatively fresh blood retains its original coloring. He screams for help, pushing back the need to vomit somehow. He stares at Mr. Williams. The body. How can he be anything except dead with that much blood lost? Yet, his eyes catch a faint rise and fall of the bloodied chest, where bones show through in white that doesn't belong.

Sprinting steps reach him, and he notes that Logan, unsurprisingly, is the first to arrive. Logan glances over the scene and reaches for Mr. Williams' wrist, feeling for a pulse. There is one, Jamie can tell. Hank arrives next, assessing the situation. He orders Logan to pick Mr. Williams up in a no-nonsense tone which is obeyed, and hurries ahead of Logan to the medical bay. As the body-he can't think of Mr. Williams alive in that condition-is carried away, Jamie rushes to the bathroom, vomiting. He cannot erase the blood from his mind. Mr. Williams probably won't survive.

 **And another chapter has been finished. Ta-daa! Is it okay? Please review it and tell me! Thanks!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	23. Time's Flight

**I own nothing! My beta reader (Chicaalterego, whom I'd neglected to mention previously) pointed out something terrible…a scene jump. From the original form for this chapter, I jumped scenes from a hall in the mansion to a room in the jet in the next chapter. Oops…Thus the revision.**

 _Hank arrives next, assessing the situation. He orders Logan to pick Mr. Williams up in a no-nonsense tone which is obeyed, and hurries ahead of Logan to the medical bay. As the body-he can't think of Mr. Williams alive in that condition-is carried away, Jamie rushes to the bathroom, vomiting. He cannot erase the blood from his mind. Mr. Williams probably won't survive._

Chapter 22: Time's Flight

Henry McCoy is walking from Professor Xavier's office when he hears it: a scream. The sound is something of a shock. All kinds of noises can be heard at the mansion, but screams aren't usually among them. Not this sort of scream. A chill runs down his neck, and he takes off, preparing himself for whatever caused it, blue feet pounding down the halls.

He arrives in the library, where he finds Logan and Jamie. He pays little attention to the latter, but instead gives all his attention to the bloodied figure on the floor. It is Mr. Williams. He pays little note to the identity of the man, instead focusing all his facilities on ensuring that Mr. Williams survives. He orders Logan to pick him up and carry him to the hospital wing, before sprinting ahead, needing to prepare a room for Mr. Williams.

By the time Logan arrives, Hank has gotten all of the necessaries together. Mr. Williams is laid on the bed gently. Logan asks him if he needs help, and Hank nods. Logan helps Hank strip Mr. Williams to his underwear, and waits while Hank injects anesthetic and cleans the area where the worst of the damage is, the chest. The caked blood under Mr. Williams' fingernails indicates that he had done this to himself. The skin itself has been torn away from the sternum underneath, and in places his ribs are slightly exposed. Hank notes minor scarring, but dismisses it for the most part. It is quite impossible to pay that detail any attention when the patient is bleeding to death.

After the wound has been cleaned, Logan is sent away while Hank proceeds with surgery, thankful for his goal of being a doctor before he'd been unable to be hired in that role and decided to teach. It takes quite a bit of work to graft new skin on from Mr. Williams' back, but after that he uses Logan again to help him bandage the area. They work together to attach soft restraints to his wrists and legs, though Hank hopes this measure is unnecessary. Finally, the entire ordeal is over-for now.

Mr. William's body seems to be healing well at first, and they are tempted to remove the restraints. He has not regained consciousness. The Professor preforms a quick scan of his mind, and learns that whatever caused the strange series of attacks that appear to have lead up to this appears to be gone. Almost nothing goes on inside Mr. Williams' head. Very little exists anymore, and it is anyone's guess as to how it happened.

The children-and some of his former students-drift through the room every once in a while, as though their presence will bring him back. Silence reigns throughout the mansion for a few days. Mr. Williams didn't really play much of a role there, other than helping them with work, but rumors run wild, most of which suggest that he is dying. Small items end up at his bedside. His phone rings quite a bit. They never realized he was very busy until they had to listen to his phone. A few times they pick it up, but all they get are cryptic messages that mean nothing to them, but that Mr. Williams would have understood. Once, they get a call from someone named Princess Dora who complains that a pair of twins has burned down several fire-proof curtains. When Hank (who is the one on phone-answering duty) tells her that Mr. Williams isn't available, she reacts by apologizing profusely and hanging up, clearly flustered. It's difficult to explain the situation to the high school. While Hank would have eventually made Mr. Williams stop teaching temporarily, it would have been Mr. Williams who made the call, not Professor Xavier. It causes quite the uproar at the school.

It isn't until the third day that their hopes for a quick recovery are proven wrong. Whatever caused the attack is still there. When Hank walks into the wing to check on Mr. Williams, the patient is found struggling against the restraints, even while seemingly unconscious. He cracks his head harshly against the side of the bed somehow and ceases movement for a short time. Minutes later he continues the struggle, lashing out at anything that gets too close to him. His eyes open several times, though it's clear that it signals nothing.

Once again the Professor probes his mind, checking for anything that could be causing the attack. He is capable of assigning a cause at the end of it. He finds pain. Pain that pushes the Professor back out of Mr. Williams' mind out of shock. He attempts reentry, before giving up when it becomes too difficult. However, at least some of the mystery can be resolved. He seems to be feeling a nonexistent pain in his chest, a pain which causes the attacks, a pain which his own body is attempting to get rid of, thus causing the extensive chest injuries.

Somehow Mr. Williams manages to continue fighting. Sometimes he goes limp for a few hours, before resuming the struggle. Yet more days pass as they search for a way to deaden the pain he feels, hoping to bring about a return to sanity. Morphine doesn't work. It only seems to react against him, and they have to be cautious of his oddly slow metabolism, which could easily turn a small dosage of morphine into a lethal injection. The Professor tries to give Mr. Williams a mental block for the pain, but with nothing to cling to inside his mind, the wall tumbles down quickly.

After about two weeks, he calms. His struggles cease. The screams that sometimes tear loose from his throat stop. The peace lasts for a long time. During this time, life goes on as usual on the surface at the mansion. Of course, in reality, very little ever stays the same there. No new members are there-after the Phoenix, it appears that most people are too afraid to send their children to a school for mutants.

During this time, they learn that the Phoenix has been killed by the sentinels. According to Senator Kelly, Phoenix had just destroyed a small town in North Carolina when the sentinels attacked. It was killing all of the inhabitants of the town who had survived the initial onslaught, one by one. It had been burning a boy, no older than twelve, who was witness to its death. The sentinels had shot the being out of the sky, quickly killing it. The body had been scanned and recognized as one Jean Grey of Bayville, New York.

The reaction amongst the humans has been extreme. They had encamped themselves outside the mansion for a short time, demanding that the mutants come out. Marie had wandered into view and a human had shot her. It wasn't fatal, but she had been thoroughly frightened, and they were now no longer allowed to venture close to the edges of the property without someone with them. Only one other had been injured: Scott. His wound was much worse, and he had become infected temporarily. He refuses to talk, having just learned of Jean's death. He has been approached by several of them in an attempt to cheer him up, and he has consigned himself to his room. The door is still locked.

Shortly after this, Mr. Williams seems to wake up, but merely stares vacantly into thin air, blinking every once in a while. Charles says that he does not truly see. He merely exists. This state doesn't last long, and quickly returns to the former, seemingly insane version of himself. Again the struggling ceases. Everyone edges around his form cautiously, as though he will explode should they come too close. Curiosity leads them to look at the things he brings with him. Only a few items, but items that say many things about his history.

They discover an odd costume, presumably for Halloween. It appears to be medieval, even down to being handstitched. They are unsure what to make of it. They learn through looking at a picture that he has met mutants before. Who else could the picture be of? It does, after all, have a tall, blue woman next to a red man whose arm is tucked around her. They hold two children, twins. It takes a while for them to connect the dots between the strange call and the picture. The back says: Princess Dorthea Princebane and her family, Authur, Julia, and Julian.

Mr. Williams' students remember his talk about her. She is his cousin, they remember him saying. The revelation is somewhat astounding. Not only that, but he possesses no pictures of his family. Another picture of his is one of a small group of teens. One has purple eyes (a girl, goth), another is wearing a yellow shirt and green cargo pants (boy, geek), a girl with orange hair, and a picture that they assume is him when he was a teen, with black hair and blue eyes. The names ascribed to the people are, respectively, Sam, Tuck, Jazz, and Me. They know that "me" means Mr. Williams. Above his head is scribbled, "Daniel Fenton, deceased. Daniel Williams, thirteen years old as of today. They would have been 29 and 31. Hard to imagine Jazz at 31. I wonder if she'd still be constantly analyzing my mental state, and what she'd think about it now."

That's when they realize the pictures are a diary, of sorts. They close it in an attempt to respect his privacy, but it leaves them wondering. The way he speaks of them reveals that they were close friends. The Jazz of the picture has similar features to the Daniel, and they guess that they are siblings based on other comments he's made in regards to a red-haired sibling who loved psychology. The picture seems to imply that Mr. Williams isn't Mr. Williams, that his name is false, that his name is Mr. Fenton. The name sounds wrong, so they don't call him by it. The picture seems to say that the subjects are all dead. It creates further puzzles for them. One might think that looking into a diary would resolve problems, but it only compounds them in this case.

They find a picture of the Phoenix, and realize something. They can see a distinctly Jean-like figure in the flames. It takes a while for them to realize it, but it _is_ Jean. He knew about her. They cannot help but be angry. Why didn't he tell them? Why didn't he help? They make a unanimous decision to hide those pictures from Scott. They don't know how he might react, considering how he'd reacted to people simply trying to talk to him through his door. Logan has threatened to simply walk in. They are planning to confront Mr. Williams-if he ever wakes up. Hank isn't certain he will. Around the three-week mark, though, something changes. The Professor senses that Mr. Williams is recovering. Then, that Wednesday, everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

It's Kurt who first alerts them. He is visiting so he can go on a date with Amanda Sefton. This isn't a date-type date-they're just friends now. Her parents finally accepted Kurt, given enough non-hostile meetings, though they aren't necessarily on the best of terms. He takes Amanda on a picnic, intent on cheering her up. She's been glum lately. They joke around for a while before she admits that she's worried. He asks her why, and she says it's because of the massive anti-mutant campaigns that have been going around. She wants to know why Kurt didn't tell her that the Phoenix was Jean Grey. He starts to give her an explanation, but they are interrupted abruptly.

She is the one who sees it, who pushes him to the ground in time to avoid a white blast from the palm of a massive sentinel. The ground seems to shake, and she only barely dodges another blast that separates the two. It keeps trying to shoot Kurt. She remembers what he's called them, and what he's told her about them. That they are designed to track mutants constantly. She realizes that she's in no danger, but still calls to Kurt, who teleports to her and transports them both away to a pasture a good distance away.

He asks her if she's alright, and when she says she is, he teleports her home, and arrives at the mansion in a puff of gray smoke. He finds the Professor in moments, and manages to tell his tale at top speeds. He then teleports several X-Men to the scene, where they take the sentinel down, and arrive back at the mansion, having bought themselves some time.

Immediately they decide to not risk this being a one-time attack, and prepare themselves for departure. It takes a lot of work, especially since they have several more students and teachers that need to pack, and because this isn't just a mission, despite the fact that they are dressed in their uniforms, prepared to fight should the need arise. Kurt, being the one who can teleport, moves between the rooftop, his room, and the jet, scanning for sentinels every few minutes, making sure none approach without being able to provide due warning. They pack luggage, and get almost everything necessary into the jet before they have to ask themselves something. What should they do with Mr. Williams? While yes, he's in the plane, they can't think of what to do with him later. In his state, they don't believe that a prolonged trip would end well.

They don't need to take him since he's a human, but leaving him is not an option. Leaving him could result in his death should nobody come, so they do know they have to take him somewhere. They aren't sure of where, though. Essentially, there were two options: keeping him with them, or dropping him off somewhere. People are still packing, and the teachers are making important phone calls to their college students, who don't yet know what's going on. It is decided that they will pick up the students as they leave. Everyone gets to bring only the minimum. Ororo is concerned about overloading the jet. The adults, and several of the older children, stand outside the nearly microscopic medical bay within the jet, worrying over the possibilities.

Kurt argues on the side of most of the students, taking a brief break from his post as a watcher: "We should keep him with us. The humans might not want to take care of him since he's spent so much time around us. Besides, one of us would have to check him in, which would put the humans in danger of being attacked by the sentinels, if they follow us." He pegs the most effective argument he can construct onto the end of his short speech to persuade them. Several of the others agree with his comments, most of them students.

"Living with us whilst we're on the run won't be good for either him or us," Ororo says. "What if he has an attack, or we run out of supplies? Logically, there's no way he can help us. He will be only a burden." Cold logic, it's true, but honest. Kurt nods unhappily, seeing that she has the most logical side of the debate.

Hank walks into the room where Daniel lays on a gurney that is carefully attached to the wall with a remarkable array of fastening mechanisms. He glances around, assessing how much of the equipment they have that would be required for either idea. He chooses to believe that they should find a way to leave him at a hospital. "The sentinels won't attack Daniel Williams, since he's not a mutant," he reasons quietly. "I think that the benefits of dropping him off at a hospital outweigh the risks. Kurt could fix his image inducer so as to appear different, and sign him in." The gathering of people in the main space within the jet show a variety of reactions, amongst them relief, worry, anger, and sadness. Acceptance is, however, on everyone's face. They knew that that would probably be the decision, but most don't want to just leave him somewhere.

Suddenly, a soft voice is heard from the small, grey gurney, "You could just ask, you know." Hank turns around, stunned, as he realizes Mr. Williams is awake, watching them through tired, unfocused eyes.

 **Like it? Hate it? Please remember to review it! Thanks! Incidentally, the chapter that I spend talking about Eel is totally unnecessary in my re-plotted version of this story. I was thinking about deleting that chapter. D' ye think I should?**

 **-MiaulinK**


	24. Waking

**I own nothing! And let's not forget one detail that I very much need to mention that without Chicaalterego (my beta reader, who is remarkably willing to fix even my more awful blunders), this chapter would have been illogical, with terrible style. I was going to place this in the mansion, but Daniel could still hear the jet…not my brightest moment. Oh, and just so my readers know, my former chapter, chapter 22, has been reposted. I made a scene jump, which only my beta caught. It was from the hall to the jet. I fixed it so you may want to reread it.**

 _Suddenly, a soft voice is heard from the small, grey gurney, "You could just ask, you know." Hank turns around, stunned, as he realizes Mr. Williams is awake, watching them through tired, unfocused eyes._

Chapter 23: Waking

Black

Dark

Nothing

A sound reaches to the broken mind. It's barely there. It would be easy to think it was never there if not for the faint echoes are left behind. The sound is faint. A whisper. The mind struggles closer to the sound, clinging to it since there is nothing but it in the emptiness. But it cannot be reached. As the mind gets close enough to brush it, pain strikes, and the mind retreats again.

The sound continues, and the desolate mind again reaches towards it, bracing itself for the pain. It succeeds for a moment. A dim, soft humming is its price. The pain continues, but for now, the mind distracts itself with listening.

The mind recognizes the tune, though from where the mind doesn't know. The mind is a he. Daniel. The thought is a rope to cling into the emptiness, and he grasps onto the identity with all the strength he can muster.

Daniel struggles against the pain, bracing himself against the agony of inching forwards, even when he wants to take a step back into the painless oblivion. He ventures too far, losing his grip. The mind shuts down once more.

…

It takes a while for the mind to wake again. Even more so to do so holding to its identity.

Daniel doesn't move at first, he is too tired to stir. But then, something pushes him out: a surge, deep within himself. The fight is daunting, but he ends the struggle victorious all the same. His mental limbs shake with weakness as he pulls himself out. The pain assails him, but he perseveres. He has to, though he doesn't quite know why. Not yet. But he knew on an instinctual level that there is something he must go back to.

He rests when he reaches the top of the pit. He notes a desert-like landscape, liquid-lava, he seems to remember it being called- seeping through cracks of chipping ice. Shudders wrack both the land and his body as cold fight a heat he knows should be there. He feels like he is the ice. Weak. Tired. He is tempted to accept defeat.

Another surge of power rushes through him. Something important is happening. He pulls up, stumbling onto his feet, wobbling back and forth. Slowly, step by step, he begins to change the parts of his mind that he can change, building patches of thin ice to cover the cracks. The ground he stands on stabilizes, but the warmth around him only reinforces the notion that the fix is temporary.

The fault lines recede a little at his command, but he only has the strength to make a feeble bridge to move forwards. A few careful steps later and he is where he is supposed to. He tries to shield it so the tremors don't threaten to break his ground. He doesn't want to fall to the emptiness again.

Finally, he tries to figure out what is happening. Another whisper reaches him, wordlessly commanding him to do more than just be.

 _Protect them._

A new searing pain spears through his frame, and he collapses. This time is different, though. It feels like he has been tossed into a wall strongly enough to break both the wall and his body. The feeling is almost nostalgic; he had left so many dents in buildings in his years being Amity Park's protector, especially at the beginning when he kept forgetting he could go intangible.

Daniel's subconscious is aware that what comes next will be incredibly painful. He somehow manages not to retreat. He writhes, he screams, he moans, he whimpers, but doesn't give up.

 _Something's wrong. Protect them._

He doesn't know who he has to protect, but he knows it's worth fighting the darkness for them. He digs his fingernails into his metaphorical scalp, fighting for a memory that remains veiled to him. He demands to know that which hides behind the veil.

Answering his command, images start to appear, blurry at first, then in sharp detail. A group sits in a room filled with desks; they are silent, writing, and he can hear his footsteps as he moves around speaking. Memories of different classrooms, of a table full of food and laughter, of a car threatening to crash with him inside under the infernal driving of a girl with brown hair tied into a ponytail.

His students, those are the ones Daniel must protect.

He must keep going.

 _Something is wrong._

 _Protect them._

He repeats these thoughts, using them to fuel his willpower and energy.

'Just a little bit more,' he tells himself as he breaks another memory-wall, then another. Flashes of red hair and green eyes disturb him before he reaches the last one, where guilt is so heavy, so overwhelming, that for a moment he could disappear back into the pain-filled pit from which he originated.

It takes him a while to understand what the red and green flashes mean, and it's the fire that comes after that makes him understand, makes him remember why he was there. He failed to protect one of them, failed to protect _her_.

He fights through the venomous corrosion the thought sends through his soul. He almost loses it, he almost gives up this time, not because he lacks the strength to close the last of the distance (though it certainly feels like it), but because he feels he deserves the torture he is under.

He deserves to be punished.

But Daniel knows he must keep going, because if he doesn't he is abandoning his other students, and even if he deserves to die for the failure he has become, they still need to be saved. So he resolves to delay his meeting with oblivion and abandon the dark peace within the deepest parts of his mind, and chooses to reenter the living hell within his physical form for just for a little while longer.

Dying can wait.

He doesn't know how long he has been trapped inside his mind. Hours? Days? Months? Years? He can't keep track of time. But it's finally over, he realizes, as he reaches the outskirts of his mind, and locates the exit. He can wake up now.

Heavy eyelids tremble and fail to open. A heart beats in his chest, soft breaths make his _real, solid_ lungs expand and contract, fabric gently wraps over skin. There is sound, no whispers born for memories, but true sound.

He can hear the rushing of people scrambling to prepare themselves for something. Daniel can hear the panic in the footsteps, the urgency in the familiar voices that argue back and forth–and he knows they are arguing: the tone gives it away even if the meaning of the words is lost to him.

Daniel finally wins the battle against his stubborn eyelids and the room he is in swims into view. He notes several things at once: he is bound tight to a bed with soft restraints around his wrists and legs; he can barely move at all; the white light on the ceiling is almost blinding.

He struggles to rise, but cannot. He hears his name, something about not leaving him. About getting someone, or something else. About buying time.

Someone enters. Blue fur, blue hair. Tall, hunched over slightly. It takes a moment for Daniel to recall the name, Hank McCoy. He contemplates pretending to sleep, before deciding against it. Hank doesn't seem to notice the foggy eyes tracking his every movement. For now.

Daniel waits. A low humming reaches his ears. He discovers he is not trapped in his guest room, but strapped to a wheeled bed in the hangar. The jet is on, he deduces, not having the strength to raise his head to make sure.

He closes his eyes for a moment, the faint trace of smoke too much for his sensitive eyes. His eyes are closed, but his ears are open. Hank suggests that they leave him at a nearby hospital for the humans to care for. "The sentinels won't attack Daniel Williams, since he's not a mutant," Hank reasons. "I think that the benefits of dropping him off at a hospital outweigh the risks. Kurt could fix his image inducer so as to appear different, and sign him in."

Daniel frowns. What is he supposed to do if they leave him somewhere?

 _Protect them._

They are bickering about what to do. Daniel opens his mouth, words coming out before he can stop them. "You could just ask, you know." Hank looks startled, and lets out a little sound of shock, jumping. Several people enter the room, almost at once, staring.

Daniel vaguely wonders how his voice can be strong enough for that many people to hear it, but he decides it doesn't really matter.

The teens that had been boarding the ship can be heard tumbling down in the entry. One of them has tripped in the rush to see their currently-sane teacher, and most of the kids come crumbling down atop him. Daniel smiles faintly at that.

A pop sounds at Daniel's left and a very ruffled Kurt –he probably got tangled into the impromptu doggy pile before realizing he could just teleport to where he is- is by Daniel's side, semi-incoherently asking questions he doesn't give Danny time to answer.

"Kurt," Hank calls, making the younger blue-furred mutant bashfully step back.

"Mr. Williams…how do you feel?" This is a very, very typical question. It seems that even Hank is using the textbook approach. It's more than a bit impersonal (and entertaining, considering his condition), but Daniel figures it's better than being asked 'Are you sane now?'

Danny snorts "You probably don't expect me to describe it. I can give you the general status, though. In pain, strapped to a bed (well, close enough), thirsty, and tired. Definitely tired. I could tell you how I feel in more descriptive language, but there are children present," A gleaming grin flitters across Daniel's face _'I wonder how he would have reacted if I spoke my mind'_. Even if he isn't about to blab out the truth, he could have described how he felt with a very colorful description. After all, even if his early teen years were spent using "crud" as his greatest cuss word, spending time around high-schoolers, adults, and many, _many_ ghosts, had given him a vocabulary worthy of a veteran sailor-a very educated veteran sailor, since he knows multiple languages.

Cursing with dairy products is a thing of the past.

"What's wrong?" Danny asks as the teens tickle back into the jet instead of trying to reach him again. Curious, Daniel sits down (well, as close to being sat as the restrains allow it) and notices how all his students, and their teachers are wearing the skin-tight uniforms they use for fighting.

Hank answers with a sigh, "Sentinels." Danny is surprised that the usually cheerful man can infuse a word with such an intense feeling of doom. "We were discussing what to do with you now that they can attack us any second and we didn't want to put you at risk. But we didn't want to let you on your own since you _did_ try to rip your chest apart. We have no explanation for why it occurred, but you became a danger to yourself…We still aren't sure you can be trusted to be released."

Daniel smiles again, this time self-mockingly instead of morbidly amused. "You probably don't have much choice other than to let me go, though." Hank smiles grimly back at Daniel. "Tell you what, give me a phone and a free hand and I'll get a little help," Daniel declares, though he doesn't quite say what kind of help he would be getting. He knows Hank will fill in the blanks with conveniently wrong information.

Slowly, Hank nods. "I hope this person has medical knowledge, just in case…." He trails off.

"Yeah, he can help me fix a lot of things," _'with technology, like your sentinel problem,'_ Daniel can't help but mentally add.

Hans turns to Ororo –was she always there? Daniel is horrified to realize how unaware he has been of his surroundings— "Could you stay here to keep an eye on him while I get a phone?" She agrees, eying Daniel with concern.

Hank goes away for a moment, and then is back, unwrapping Daniel's right hand and arm, but not his chest. He will be making this call lying down.

Slowly, carefully, Daniel dials a familiar number. A satellite's number. The satellite that Technus inhabits in space. He hopes they don't hate him too much when the phone-bill arrives.

The phone rings for an endless moment. Finally, Technus answers. "Hello, Phantom. It's been a long time." The familiar nasal tone of his once-enemy gives Danny a huge sense of relief.

"Hello Nicolai." He waves Ororo away. He doesn't want her to hear the content of this conversation. "A year, I believe. Yes, I know I call in for favors most of the time, but this is important," He keeps his voice barely above a whisper. "I have a question for you. Are you capable of locating many sentinels and shutting them down?"

"Of course I am, Ghost Child! For I am Technus..." There is a pause on the other end of the line, and Daniel felt an uneasy feeling "How important exactly was this?"

"I need to help some mutants. Sentinels are going to attack. This is just the first wave, I think." Danny whispers harshly, covering the phone with his hand as much as he can, trying to keep any sound from reaching Ororo, who is looking at him with a suspicious face and a raised eyebrow.

"Seems like you are out of luck, Ghost Boy, I can't deactivate them. Only locate them. They're in a warehouse on the corner of Bradly Street and Wilmington Road. You probably will want to take your little friends out there soon."

A plan formulates within Danny's mind, gaining appeal. He knows this area, if only somewhat. He could tell them of his plan… No, he can't. He would lose too much time trying to sell the idea to them. Especially since he just came out from a psychotic episode.

Even if he could convince the mutants that the friend he had called could actually help some–and wasn't a figment of his imagination— there were the possible ramifications, what the police would do to him, whether this could or could not be a trap…No, he needs to trick them into letting him help them.

"How many are there?" Danny asked, mind working on his new plan.

"Thirty." Danny can tell hear Technus' resignation as he says it. That he was about to do something heroically stupid was a given.

"Thanks. Bye." Daniel cuts the call short before Technus can ask him to promise to be careful. That is not a promise he thinks he can keep.

Danny lets his arm fall into the mattress. He feels for his core, the dim, achy area of his body. It lets out a protesting throb because the lie he was planning to spin felt like another betrayal. Danny suppresses the throb. It's time to follow his calling. To protect his students and his friends. His mind is set, and nothing anyone says can change it. It's time for a little lying.

He doesn't even dare hope for forgiveness as he readies himself to deceive them one more time. A little voice in his head sends a bitter jibe –it isn't like he has ever told them any truth.

 **Another chapter is complete! Do y'all like it? Please remember to review it! Review do inspire me (or at least make me want to update faster)!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	25. Betrayal

**I own nothing! This is part two of one chapter. Not really, of course, but I sent it in with the previous chapter to get worked on by Chicaalterego (my beta), and it came out as two chapters in the end! This chapter and the last chapter were the most extensively edited by her (think massive revision work here). Hopefully the less-edited ones won't pale too much in comparison…**

 _He doesn't even dare hope for forgiveness as he readies himself to deceive them one more time. A little voice in his head sends a bitter jibe –it isn't like he has ever told them any truth._

Chapter 24: Betrayal

Daniel turns to Ororo with a fake smile "My friend tells me I can come anytime, but he cannot come pick me up..." he trails, then look at Kurt "Do you think you can take me there? I would go myself but I don't think I can make it there in one piece."

"And who was this friend of yours again?" Ororo's tone is suspicious. She knows something about Daniel is off, not to mention the behavior he showed while he was making that call rubbed her the wrong way.

"An old friend, ma'am." Daniel reply, hoping she doesn't prod more.

"And he will be ok with Kurt taking you there?" Skepticism.

Another lie pours from between his lips. "Sure. He is not a regular human-" _true_ " And he won't be startled by the two of us popping there in the slightest." _Because he won't be there_. "Can you take me there? Please? It won't take more than a minute," he assures.

The mutant in the room, Ororo, looked like she wanted to press the issue, but she didn't question him was running out of time, and his impatience showed in his twitchiness. The sentinels would activate any second.

"Kurt, come back here," she yells towards the jet, then turns back to Danny, seeming about to say something but taps her head instead. Daniel is willing to bet there is some telepathy involved in the gesture.

Within moments, a poof brings Kurt, while Hank pushes the wheel chair Xavier is sitting on. "Is there trouble?" Hank enquires.

"No. Mr. Williams wants Kurt to take him to see a friend," the professor answers as though he has been there for the whole conversation, confirming Daniel's theory about Ororo having a telepathic conversation with someone.

Hank purses his lips together, before saying, "It might be worth the effort if Kurt can take him back should he collapse before the friend comes. I suppose, considering his current mental state, it might be alright. I guess this is good bye then." His agreement is reluctant.

"Kurt, could you take me?" Daniel asks as Hank leans forward, undoing the bindings for now. He knows that the ties will be on quickly if he dares make the wrong move. He asks Kurt, "Can you teleport to an area you've never seen, or should I ask Charles to show you where I need to go?"

Kurt responds after a moment of thought. "I can take you. I vould prefer to see zie place. It makes teleportation simpler."

Daniel glances at Charles, and knows that he knows what Daniel is about to request. He simply nods. Daniel brings to the surface the best memory he has of the place, and is careful to keep his scheme out of the image. It is a peaceful image from the interior of the warehouse. Light streams though the windows.

It takes a moment, but Kurt grips his arm, signaling that he has received the image, and is about to teleport. Daniel takes a deep breath before he disappears from their vision, preparing himself for the sensation of teleporting with which he is only somewhat familiar.

* * *

During the moment it takes them to teleport, Daniel can feel the beginnings of a power surge from deep within his core. The feeling is exhilarating. His feet hit solid ground in the stale air of the warehouse a second later. He stumbles lightly, feeling disorientated by the abrupt (although expected) change of location. His vision expands, allowing the world to move back into the full color. His senses regain their awareness, and his enhanced ghost hearing seem to be back for a moment, letting him hear Kurt's heartbeat, and his own normalizing.

A whirring sound fills the warehouse, wreaking havoc on newly sharpened sense as sentinels begin to activate. Daniel cannot feel but be impressed by the robots, but he is the only of the two to feel awe.

Horror flows across Kurt's face as he steps back sharply, yellow eyes meeting blue in the dim light, gasping with shock at realizing Daniel is not in the very least surprised, that he knew the sentinels would be there.

A trap, Daniel can see the thought forming as the feeling of betrayal joins horror in his student's face. The mutant releases Daniel's arm as though it burns Kurt to touch him. "What?" Kurt's voice is croaking with astonishment.

"I'm sorry." Daniel gives Kurt a sad smile. Is he apologizing for lying? for failing? for having Kurt deliver him to his demise? He can't say for sure. All he knows for certain was that in this case I'm sorry means good-bye.

"I thought you were our friend." Kurt states accusatorially. He wants to get an explanation out of the teacher he thought as a friend, but a beam he barely manages to dodge reminds him of the danger. He pops away a few steps back, and then gives Daniel a look that makes him feel as though his core is bleeding. A moment later a pop resounds throughout the warehouse as he teleports away.

Daniel's heart aches as the image burns into his mind. He hopes nothing too bad happens to his student, that there is no one back in the institute who would wish to believe in him enough to try to reach him after his "betrayal".

The sentinels hum yet more, yellow "eyes" glowing at him judgmentally, but they don't seem to notice Daniel at first. They sense that Daniel is not a mutant. They register only his slow-beating heart, his soft, unnaturally long breaths. They don't see him as a mutant, but he is clearly inhuman, and their programming has no instructions for how to proceed.

Daniel takes a deep breath, summoning what's left of his core. There's not much of it, but he gathers it all. Power rushes through him, and he centers it inside his chest, in his lungs, and the energy eagerly jumps to his vocal chords as he screams.

The transition from silence to deafening sound is so fast it's almost inexistent, but if it was to be replayed in slow motion it would have started on a deep note, inaudible to the human slowly starting to climb the scale of frequency, as if searching for the right note. It becomes loud enough to hurt his sensitive ears at the same time the glass begins to shatter around him. The sentinels begin to crumble instants later, as do the walls of the warehouse.

The warehouse begins to collapse around him but the waves of sound send the debris away from his body. For a moment, Daniel feels powerful again, and his aura shines brighter than ever… just like a flame glows the brighter before dying.

Daniel's knees bend but he keeps screaming, pouring his all into a last ghostly wail. The haunting sound vibrates through him and around him as he struggles to keep it going until his deed is done. He watches the robots crumble like paper, falling, the light in their eyes going off as the breastplates dent and electricity frizzles out of the minced bodies. Little is left of the warehouse, but enough to warn Daniel that escape, should he recover fast enough, will be impossible.

His core gives out, almost in unison with his breath. As the last few sentinels shred away, his energy leaves him. He loses access to his abilities, and hits the ground hard. The blow and the precious energy he's expended on his Wail, together have enough impact on his physical state to cause his consciousness to ebb out like a lowering tide. It occurs to him that he must be on some kind of black-out streak, and almost manages to find humor upon the realization.

Daniel Williams, former hero and self-entitled failure and traitor is empty from the inside. He meets nothingness feeling number than ever as his weakened body falls to the floor, and the debris begin to settle.

 **Like it? Hate it? Remember to review it, please! Thanks so much for the encouragement your reviews have given me! I have an almost 3.5k chapter in my power, which my crazy beta declared I give to you ASAP if you give me at least 15 reviews in 24 hours. I cannot give it to you if you don't or she will eat my cookies and take a while with the next one in petty revenge (her words not mine). So review and get your chapter right away, or wait till the next scheduled update.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	26. Broken Trust

**I own nothing!** **And here it is! The chapter which my beta (Chicaalterego) was holding hostage as of the last chapter! After much revision and a horrible time with German accents, it is ready to be unveiled. Tadaa!**

 _Daniel Williams, former hero and self-entitled failure and traitor is empty from the inside. He meets nothingness feeling number than ever as his weakened body falls to the floor, and the debris begin to settle._

Chapter 25: Broken Trust

Kurt pulls in a deep breath, teleportation having stolen his air, and glances around the interior of the place that Mr. Williams convinced him to teleport to. The massive room is dark, and smells of oil and other mechanical scents. He notes it immediately as odd. Wrong. He had gotten the impression that this was supposed to be a garage, not a warehouse –from the borrowed mental image he had used to get himself there.

At first, nothing seems wrong besides that detail. Kurt assumes that the place looked a lot more eerie in the dark than in the memory. He glances around, thankful for the cat-like eyes his mutation granted him which allow him to see a faint gleam, like that of a light reflected against a chrome surface. Suddenly, a new series of sights and sounds change his perceptions of his surroundings.

First, a multitude of small lights, seemingly ordered in groups of two light up. Next, a soft _whrrrr_ fills the air, increasing in volume while Kurt attempts to process his surroundings as his eyes finish adapting to the darkness. A creaking, groaning, clanking sound echoes around the warehouse as the spots of light start to point in the same direction: him.

It takes Kurt longer than it should have for it to click that the metallic surfaces kissed by faint moonlight have humanoid shapes. Familiar ones at that.

Sentinels.

The realization shoots a ray of terror through Kurt's soul. His eyes flash to the side, seeking Mr. Williams' face. His lips part to deliver this pronouncement, but the warning dies a quick death –it doesn't even have time for the first sound to come out of his lips. He doesn't want to believe what his eyes tell him. Mr. Williams' face is hard. Set. His body is tense, and his guilty eyes dart towards Kurt, seeking… forgiveness? What for? The lack of surprise as Mr. Williams glances towards the massive automatons that surround them reveals the answer.

Betrayal unlike anything else Kurt has ever felt sears through his heart. His teacher, the man who helped him every time he asked, who didn't seem to mind that he was a mutant, whom he'd thought didn't mind him… He recalls the few times Mr. Williams flinched at his teleportation. Kurt had been amused then, feeling smug that he was able to ruffle the teacher's feathers.

He wasn't amused anymore. This last revelation of Mr. Williams' allegiances had thrown a new perspective on the issue: Mr. Williams was terrified of his powers; the flinches should have been a clear proof of his rejection of them, of him as a mutant.

"Vat?" His voice is a croak of shock, stunned by this revelation. A part of Kurt is surprised he can be stunned by something that has been so commonplace in his life: rejection, betrayal.

Mr. Williams gives him a sorrowful look and for a moment Kurt hopes that he was forced into it. The hope lasts until Mr. Williams says, "I'm sorry," in such a tone Kurt can't help but acknowledge he is doing this of his own volition.

Mr. Williams had known this would happen. He knew what would be there, and took Kurt there anyway. Had he in part faked his insanity to move closer to them? Kurt releases his arm, anger surging through his body –he wants to hurt the traitorous teacher, but a moment later Kurt sees a sentinel fires a beam of lethal light, and he barely has time to dodge it, much less punch Mr. Williams.

"I thought you were our friend," Kurt shouts from the awkward crouch he had landed in as he dodged. Mr. Williams flinches. Kurt hopes his words convey the depths of his disgust and hatred for him, a man whom they'd offered a home to, a man who had gained their trust and friendship, then stabbed them in the back.

Kurt swears to himself that he will personally make him pay for this betrayal when the right time comes. For now, though, he focuses in his mental picture of the interior of the jet. Then, he lets his power build. The world shift around him with a pop of displaced air.

…

Teleportation over, Kurt finds himself in the main section of the stationed jet. Everyone is there, talking in a buzzing hum so loud the trademark pop sound of his power is muted.

The jet vibrates ever-so-slightly under his feet, showing that it is ready to depart any second, but Kurt doesn't notice it much. He is too absorbed within his own shock, too overcome by silent anger. Nobody notices him for a short time –crouched as he is –but eventually they do notice him; one voice calls for him, then every eye is on him.

The Professor is the one who notices that something is wrong first. Kurt ha drooped, shoulders hunched with weariness, eyes sad, body more than a little tense. Nobody says a word. There is something in the way his body shake that still their tongues. Finally, Hank breaks the silence. "Kurt? What happened?"

Another shudder runs through Kurt's form, the words from his lips cutting through his soul as he murmurs, "He wasn't our friend," and the acceptance that comes from words spoken out-loud shatter the brittle façade that kept him from appearing broken.

He straightens slightly, anger feeding a new resolve, and Kurt goes from sad to demanding. "Ve need to leaf. Now. Ve need to change vere ve're going, too. Ve need to leaf!" His voice comes in quick tones overflowing urgency and hinting at a barely contained fury. He can see the bewilderment that spreads through the small crowd, both from the words spoken and the terrifying face he doesn't know he is making.

"What's going on?" Ororo asks, startled, "Why do we need to change locations?"

Kurt stands up numbly, walking with shaking steps to the nearest chair, where he promptly sinks, uncaring of the odd angle he lads at. He doesn't want to speak of the matter, but they need to know. "It vas a trap. Zie place I took us to vas filled vis Sentinels. Sentinels he knew vould be there. He vas nefer our friend. He vas only around to… He might have guessed vere ve are going. Ve need to change destinations. He probably told zie government all zey needed to know about us to destroy us."

A ripple of disbelief runs through the surrounding people. Hank is, once again, the first to say something. "He…he what?"

"He betrayed us. I took him to zie place he vanted to go. It vas a varehouse. It vas filled vis sentinels." Kurt repeats the facts, the words coming easier this time.

It might be the adrenaline still filling his veins, but it seems to him like everything around is moving in slow motion, so he had a first row seat to see the horror, fear and betrayal –emotions that mirror his own- coming to life in the face of his friends.

Thunder sounds from outside the windows of the jet, and the jet sways as the threat of several tornados and hurricanes Ororo must have unlashed as the control of her power slips for a moment rises. The light of the impromptu electrical storm flashes ominously, making dark, threatening shadows dance on the somber face of Logan. The Wolverine clutches his knuckles, adamantium claws sprouting out of white-knuckled hands a second before he slashes a–thankfully non-vital—part of the jet.

"Calm down, my friend," Professor Xavier speaks soothingly, getting nothing more than a growl in response, before the powerful mutant stomps all the way out of the main room –presumably to the small storage room where he might find something to punch to better vent his anger.

Hank checks the mess that is left on the wall of the machine, and informs everyone that radio wouldn't work for the duration of their flight… not that they need to know the use of such apparatus to know that mutants all over the city (and the world) will be getting butchered by the government's newest weapons.

After Wolverine's outburst, things calm down enough for one of Kurt's friends, Jamie, to come up with a positive theory… well, more like an indignant cry born of naïve denial "He couldn't have betrayed us. I'm certain!" he looks around looking for support "Why would he betray us? He always accepted us! He helped us and-"

"He took me zere!" Kurt snaps.

"You can teleport! Maybe he wanted you to warn us!" Jamie snaps back. His hands ball into fists and his eyes glitter with anger. "Maybe he was forced by somebody, like mind-control. Or he was tortured! Or he was tricked into it! He wouldn't have taken with him someone who could teleport if he meant to harm us!"

"He meant it, Jamie, I could see it. He knew zie truth and nobody forced him to take me zere!" Even as Kurt says it, he feels a weak seedling of hope sprouting inside his heart that he forces himself to quash. Jamie's words are irrational. Kurt cannot let himself hope. He must not. And he mustn't let the others hope in vain, lest the truth hurt them all the more.

"How did he look, then?" Jamie has crossed his arms.

"Guilty. Sad. Like he vanted me to see things his vay." Kurt can describe the emotions he saw on Mr. Williams' face. He has memorized them. He isn't sure he will ever get the picture out of his head, keep it from playing over and over again.

"See? He had to! Otherwise he wouldn't feel guilty. Besides, he wouldn't betray us. He's teaching me algebra, and that doesn't scream 'I hate mutants' at all. Stop lying!"

Kurt wants to agree, but he is not lying. Not even to himself. Denial is something Kurt wishes he call on command, but he has never been good at it. A life being rejected by humans has made it impossible to shield himself with ignorance. He opens his mouth to respond to Jamie's rage, but clamps it shut. He didn't have it in him to destroy Jamie's bubble of hope. Kurt knows Jamie will accept it eventually, like many of the others –more experienced at being at the receiving end of discrimination- have.

Betrayal is common in a mutant/human relationship, whether it be friendship, parenthood, or love. So all mutants, even the more sheltered, eventually learnt to recognize it. And for a mutant so deeply familiar with being shunned and stabbed in the back, there is no mistaking the framework of emotions displayed in that warehouse. Had Mr. Williams been under control, he would have never felt guilt or sadness.

Ororo, interrupts his train of thought. "Do you really think we need to change locations again?"

"He was with us long enough to learn all he needs to know. He can tell zie sentinels, or whoever controls zem, vere he thinks ve'll go." Jamie looks ready to crusade for Mr. Williams again, but Kurt doesn't give him the chance "If ve're found, ve all know vat could happen." His final words remind those who had forgotten of the potential danger in being found. Experimentation. Nobody is willing to risk it after the reminder of what is left unsaid.

"Where should we go?" Ororo turns to Charles, the man who all the X-men trust to always come with the right answer.

Charles closes his eyes in contemplation "How about Maine?" he proposes as he opens his eyes to look around.

Hanks seems to think for a moment before saying, "Maine's got a low population, so it wouldn't be a safe place to be for long, but we should have time to regroup for a bit there."

"Vere in Maine vould ve go?" Kurt asks. "Any locations in mind?"

The door of the room opens and a decidedly ruffled Logan makes his way in, his blue hair peppered with bits of foam that probably came from the training mats they would undoubtedly need to replace. "Anywhere in northern Maine would work. Not much up there, just a bunch of UTs." Logan says. "I got my fav'rit spots, but most of'm ain't great landin' areas. If yer careful, ya kin find a good spot, though. They've got some runways."

The consent was both unanimous and unspoken; the teachers burst into activity, making sure their trip to Maine goes smoothly.

Kurt looks away from them all, not bothering to know who is doing what, and even when some of the students of the Xavier institute are tasked with one thing or another, they leave him be until they are ready to depart , only interrupting his musings to remind him he ought to buckle up.

Soon everyone is in their seats, ready for takeoff. Kurt breathes in soft, quiet breaths, and closes his eyes. Flashbacks of darker times surface, at Jamie's asking why Mr. Williams would betray them. As far as Kurt is concerned, a human doesn't need a reason to betray a mutant.

/

 _"Demon! It's here, in this church."_

 _Kurt races away, wishing he could be anywhere but 'here' as yet another mob chases him away from his refuge in a church. He remembers a girl he thought was his friend, one who told him she liked him… only to tell the townsfolk of his hiding place._

 _He turns several random corners before he finds himself in a cul-de-sac, heart pounding as the crowd moves closer, closer, closer. He doesn't know what to do. He can't climb away, he realizes. The dead end has a cover with piles of junk underneath. He covers himself and hopes they go away. They don't._

 _A minute passes before the people find him and drag him out. He closes both eyes and prays to God, to the saints, to whoever up there that was listening, to keep him for harm –or at least prays to be granted the ability to survive what will come._

 _His eyes reopen, everything remains the same. Even God has deserted him. He watches as a fist rushes towards his face, near paralyzed with terror, wishing he was anywhere but here. A sensation reaches him when he latches to the memory of near river where he often found a feeling of peace. He feels himself trigging something before being wrapped into a dizzying, stomach-churning sensation. Suddenly, he is drops into the river, the water both drenching him and drowning him as the force of the flow pulls him down._

 _Kurt struggles to the surface and realizes what happened. It feels so surreal, but the blood and pain in his body –born from a few well-aimed rocks— make sure to remind him this is real. He isn't dreaming. He shudders in the icy water, and eventually pulls himself ashore. He survives, but he still feels that a piece of him is left behind in that church, where laughter of a fake friendship built the illusion that the world could be a bright place for someone like him._

/

Kurt pulls himself out of his reminiscences of the past. A betrayal which would have lead him to his death if he hadn't teleported that first time. It had taken a long time for him to control that power, but it had finally panned out when Charles came and offered the opportunity to learn and a place to belong. Charles and his students were among the small number of childhood friends he'd ever had that didn't betray him.

Kurt attempts to steer away his mind from the memories of the old betrayal, but Mr. Williams' actions are like salt being poured on emotional wounds that never quite healed. For a moment, as self-doubt rears its ugly head and wonders if it is his fault for being a mutant, he wonders how he could be so stupid as to trust a human again. He feels like he should have known better and that it was all his fault he let the traitor hurt them all when Kurt should have known better than his peers. They were all in a danger that could have been prevented if he had acted different, if he had known Mr. Williams wasn't the man Kurt thought he was.

Dark thoughts continue to circle in Kurt's head until his body detects the change of pressure inside the cabin, and the tell-tale sounds of the jet getting ready to land. The jet rolls a bit, shaking a bit as the wheels touch ground, then it stops.

Kurt straightens out, feeling alert now that they ware touching ground, but then the jet starts moving once more, and it soars up. The confusion over the whole thing is dispelled when Kitty slips through the wall –they must have stopped to pick her up. She sits at an empty spot by his side –both sides of him being available as the gloom he is exuding makes the others keep an unconscious distance from him.

Kurt doesn't speak until he is addressed with a cheerful "Hi, elf! Been busy studying up for finals?"

Kurt is pulled out of his sadness with her cheer. "Yes, Kitty. I've been fery, fery busy. Studying for zie finals is horrible." He manages to find enough happiness to pull a weak grin.

"Well, isn't it great to know that all your hard work on that can now be wasted?" Her voice is suddenly too cheerful.

"Yes…I mean NO!" He starts to agree with her, but then realizes what she's saying –the surprise of what he almost agreed to cutting the depressive atmosphere like a knife.

He gives her a false glare. She bursts into laughter at his expression of exasperation. "Why so glum?"

Immediately, Kurt is reminded again of Mr. Williams' betrayal, and his lips purse into a thin line. "Did you hear about Mr. Villiams?" He asks.

"Oh. Yeah. I didn't think that would happen."

"Neizer did I."

"Has he woken up yet?"

"Vat?" Kurt is confused. "Vhy do you say zat?"

Kitty's head tilts to the side with puzzlement. "Remember? He went off his rocker? Lost it completely and passed out for a while?" She waits for him to understand.

"Off his rocker? Vat does zat mean?" Kurt enquires. He's heard the expression before, but doesn't remember its meaning.

"Insane. Nuts. Crazy. Pick a meaning." Kitty smirks, teasing him with her expression about his poor knowledge of English idioms.

"He did vake up. But you didn't hear about vat happened later, did you?" Kurt asks, understanding of her unhampered cheer coming to him at least.

"Nope! Do I want to know?" Her tone says she's curious. He wishes the explanation he has to give her was a different one.

"He voke up and told us he had a friend zat ve could take him to, since ve veren't sure about vat to do vis him. He called zie friend and had me teleport him zere. It vas a varehouse, filled with sentinels." Kurt pauses to take a fortifying breath before continuing "I don't know how many, just zat zere vere a lot. It vas a trap, and I fell for it. I teleported away before I could be a dead Nightcrawler." He manages to force a tight smile at the end.

"Mr. Williams —our teacher Mr. Williams— tried to kill you?" He can see her making the same connections he did, horror spreading across her features.

"Yes." His voice is a little numb.

"I though he didn't hate mutants." Kitty frowns.

"Look, I know vat I saw. You don't believe me? Fine." Kurt's voice rises with anger. His eyes narrow.

Kitty takes a step back. "Sorry! It's just a shock." She slumps back into a chair. "He taught me to drive and he was so nice. Why did he do this?" He can see the beginning of tears in her eyes. He remembers that Danielle reported Kitty had been a weird, emotional mess lately. He suspects that it's because Danielle is dating another girl. Danielle doesn't see it that way. He disagrees. But at the end it doesn't really matter, what matters is that Mr. Williams' betrayal ought to hurt Kitty –which is a damage made worst due the fact that the traitor spent more time with her than any other of them.

Kurt gives her a hug and lets her lean into him. She sobs, all the pervious cheer gone. After a while, they break out of the closeness. He flushes when he realizes that her small breasts had been pressed into his uniformed chest. He might be mostly over his crush on her, but that doesn't mean it'll ever fully go away.

She snorts at his blush and flicks him on the shoulder teasingly. He pouts but doesn't give a verbal response and the interaction doesn't go beyond companionable silence, both taking comfort on the other's presence.

 **Please remember to write a review! Reviews are almost as awesome as my beta reader, and both inspire me! Thanks for the many reviews of the previous chapter!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	27. A Father's Revenge

**I own nothing! Sorry about the lateness of the update. I got a cold/flu, so I was busy being miserable for a while, but I feel much better now, so here the update is!**

 _She snorts at his blush and flicks him on the shoulder teasingly. He pouts but doesn't give a verbal response and the interaction doesn't go beyond companionable silence, both taking comfort on the other's presence._

Chapter 26: A Father's Revenge

February 10

Senator Robert Kelly stared at the newspaper headlines with shock as he sat at his table eating breakfast with his wife and daughter. The headline read, _"Senator Kelly Moves Decisively to Eliminate all Mutants."_ His hands shook with shock as he reread the title over and over before forcing himself to look below it. The article said told about an attack he'd engineered to rid the world of mutants once and for all. Massive sentinels were shown in full color. Little real information was given. It was known that a warehouse had been destroyed, probably due to a mutant. It was also known that a group of what were believed to be soldiers had taken a body away. These soldiers had worn no emblem to tell where they came from.

"Did you do it?" His wife asked. He hands rested on the table as she stared at him with worry.

"No." He murmured softly. He knew she heard him because she stood and rested her hands on his shoulders quietly.

"I believe you. Don't worry, love. Everything will work out." He felt a brief cocoon of happiness swell inside him. For a moment his wife's words kept him safe from the stresses of a political life. Safe from forever wondering if he'd made the right choices. He let his eyes close for a moment, and tried to cling to the peace. The moment he tried, though, it fell through his grasp like flour through a sifter.

A thought struck him and his grip tightened slightly on the paper. He knew who had done this: Trask. Memories hit him, and he recalled Bolivar's smug smiles.

" _I really only want there to be no more mutants, Robert."_

" _I wonder if your cure really does rid the world of mutants."_

" _If it hadn't been for Graydon's murder, you'd have never been a senator."_

" _Amazing how things turn out."_

" _I don't mind taking risks, as long as it's for the greater good."_

" _If you couldn't tell, sometimes I do illegal things."_

" _Life is really just a game of chess, Kelly. Use the right moves and fool your opponents and you can get whatever you want. I suggest you use this tactic in your politics. Free will, is, after all, made to be sculpted."_

" _I suggest you…/You need to…/Remember…/Just do what I tell you. I know plenty about politics, Kelly."_

Kelly's hands curled tightly around the newspaper and rent it in half. He'd been dubbed. Crossed. Fooled. He was an idiot to have missed the warning signs. The small words that he now recalled, words that if not dismissed would have saved him from such a massive error. He would never trust Bolivar Trask again.

February 11

Damon Gray —one of the veterans in charge of the major security company hired by the government— checked the security cameras one last time before his alternate could arrive. It was late in the evening, about ten o'clock. He would be driving back home soon to his home on the outskirts of Burlington, Vermont. It would take two hours to arrive, and from there he'd planned to fix a small meal before bed.

A frown wrinkled his aged features as he thought about his only child, Valerie, who still lived under his roof. When he got back, she would probably be settled at the table studying for that university title life prevented her from getting at the age her peers had gotten it.

He admired her for not giving up on it, but wished that she didn't study so often so late into the night.

He was worried for her. She was exhausted from all the martial arts classes she taught to pay for her studies, too stubborn to take his money for it. It hurt him to see her limp in every evening, exhausted, but firm in her choice not to rely on him because she was under the impression that him allowing her to live with him made her enough of a burden for him. She had told him as much, begging him to understand she needed to do this on her terms, that he needed to understand. He eventually gave in, unable to look into his daughter's eyes and see how his pretest chipped a bit into what it was left of her pride.

Life had been so harsh on his daughter, to the point that whenever he closed his eyes he winced at the thought that the cheeky grins and stubborn fights of her teenager years were exchanged to a stubborn resolution, shadowed eyes and the limp of a phantom pain that came back no matter how the physiatrist had told them she had done a full recovery… physically, at least, the mental trauma of the accident had yet to go away.

The accident. Damon felt familiar anger rise inside of his chest.

She had been fourteen when Vladimir Masters saw something in Valerie, they traded mail every now and then, and those interactions seemed to be the only thing that saved his daughter from the depression she had fallen into when he lost his job after some freak accident that had the machinery malfunction. It wasn't his fault by any means, but he had been a convenient scapegoat, while the culprits: programmers, installers, maintenance guys (who had not noticed anything amiss with the complex system) didn't get so much as a slap in the wrist while he took the whole of the burn.

Damon had been so busy back then, trying to build his status back while carrying the baggage of a tarnished reputation, that he failed to notice the bruises and small cuts that her daughter would come home back with. He failed to realize that she was getting into dangerous business, that the offer Valerie had gotten from the richest man in the word was shadier that he could have ever suspected… that is, until she became 15 years of age and was invited to the man's house. Vladimir Masters, it seemed, had a lab full of monsters in tanks, fruit of some sick inhuman experiments.

They found Valerie in the mansion, half-buried under a pile of debris. The cops had taken his daughter to the hospital, and, once there, men in black suits asked him if he was aware of Valerie being involved with the man. They had drilled him with question after tedious questions, and was shown pictures of the remains that had been left behind. He vomited. Bile making its way to his lips not because of the twisted, green monsters that looked at him from the colorful pictures, but because his baby had been exposed to a man who could build such monstrosity.

Damon didn't remember the questions that came after that. Only that he answered dully and sweating, and feeling like the worst father in history. He felt even worse when he was finally allowed to see his daughter, and the look of her body showed scars that he never knew she got, but couldn't be older than a year. That most have gotten there while she was at the mercy of a man Damon had borderline worshipped as a benefactor not only of his daughter, but of himself, since Damon had gotten a good job thanks to him. Now the money he had won at Axiom Labs felt like it was dirty, it felt like blood money, and he had almost had to pay for his naivety with his daughter's life.

It was from that moment on that Damon swore to himself that he would never focus in his job to the point of neglecting Valerie. She would come first, because she was the most important person in his life. It was a shame that he didn't come to this epiphany before her body was mangled and got severe brain damage.

Damon begged of her to tell him about what she had gone through, to let him share the burden of her memories. She remembered nothing of it. Her memory was broken and blurry, remembering barely pieces of her past. Remembering the first 14 years of her life effortlessly, but everything from the day he lost his job forwards was jumbled, and the memories of the job she had been done under Vladimir Master was totally erased.

The doctors had said it was normal for the brain to block those experiences that were too traumatic. But despite of her suffering the cops and the FBI marked her as a possible accomplice. And such stain was forever added to his daughter's file. Thankfully, the state she was left in gained her enough pity not to be tossed into a reformatory.

It was the stuff of nightmares to see his baby daughter lie there, comatose, with hair charred and her face marked with burns on top of scars. Her arms were trapped in casts, and even her chest was wrapped in gauze. It broke his heart. But the horrible revelations didn't stop there: the friends his daughter had been so with during her whole childhood never so much as visit her once –though that Star girl did send her a cheap 'Hang in there' card.

Much to his surprise, though, the Fenton boy came every day. He would sit with eyes shadowed in a sear opposite of Damon's, looking at his daughter with a suffering guilt that almost matched his own. Men and a boy would stay there in the silent room, never exchanging a word, but eventually falling into quiet companionship.

Danny Fenton was there the day Valerie finally woke up, but was not there the moment she did, since he had rushed out of the room, cutting the visit abruptly, like he always did. Valerie greeted Damon, groaning and asking him if she could skip school today because she felt like crap. And at those words Damon laughed. Feeling selfishly glad to have that moment with his daughter to himself.

His joy lasted little, because as Valerie asked him why she was in the hospital, in a broken stutter, he had had to retell the whole thing. Valerie had been unsurprised none of her popular friends had come, but had smiled knowingly when he spoke of the Fenton boy. He asked about that, and she struggled to tell him, but a nurse walked in then and chided him because Val needed to rest, and he was promptly ushered out of the room.

The soft tread of his younger coworker, Mr. Alexander Baker, broke into his memories. "You're here. I was starting to wonder if you'd come at all." Damon said coolly, the usual contempt at the man's habit of always being late hiding the leftover distress of Damon's trip down the memory lane.

If Mr. Baker hadn't been as competent as he was, he would have been long since fired for his chronic lateness. He had assisted Damon in designing a state-of-the-art security system for the military base they guarded, and he had to admit that the younger man had a talent that would take him far.

"Of course I came!" he huffed, "But more importantly, I went to see the prisoner to check if there was any indication that the security would need reinforcing. Which doesn't seem to be the case. He's heavily sedated for now. The monitor suggests he'll be waking soon, though. I imagine you will be asked to see him later," Alexander smirked, "not that something like that would be a problem for you." He jested, keenly aware of Damon's obsession with double-checking every aspect of the security systems. Even at fifty-four Damon liked knowing the whys and hows of things, and never allowed anyone to keep him from making 200% sure everything would run as it should. He had even caught a few errors in the past in the perpetual double checks. It was how he'd gotten so far in his career.

"I'll take a look-see after you get your ass in that chair and start looking at the cameras." Damon said sternly, not finding humor the others saw in his caution, not when he had to build a reputation twice over decades ago because of the incompetence his former co-workers.

"Fine, fine. You have no appreciation for me. A thank-you would be nice." Alexander grumbled in return, settling into the chair that Damon had gestured to.

"Thank you." Damon added drily. "Have fun."

…

Damon walked through the building, making his way to their maximum security cells, and halting in front of cell 004. Why the prisoner couldn't be kept in a logical cell, like 001, made no sense to him, since there were no other inmates yet, but he didn't see the harm either, so he refrained from chilling the moron who put the prisoner there. He cast a glance towards an unexplored door to his left. He'd been explicitly instructed to never open that door by the top dogs of the company. It was for only a few people, who walked in and out as they pleased. He turned back to cell 004 and ran through the security measures required to open the cell. Vaguely wondering if his bosses seriously expected him to wait for permission to check that the equipment was working properly.

A soft, buzzing sound reached his ears and he ventured in, casting a cautious look around his surroundings, the paranoid part of him imagining cut wires and an escaped mutant ready to melt his face with venom spit –he probably should stop seeing monster movies with Valerie.

Reality was different than his fears; everything seemed to be normal. There was a metal reclined chair –looking quite a lot like a dentist's chair— to which the prisoner was attached. The prisoner was tied down with several types of clamps. He wore a metal band around his torso designed to syphon energy, making impossible for most mutants to access their abilities. Damon knew enough to notice that the readings didn't quite match that of a regular human. It didn't match the amount he had expected to see, though, but it did make sense that every mutant would radiate a different amount of energy. After all, the sentinels had only been needed to exist after the Phoenix, who had bigger power readings that any human so far.

This mutant was probably a very weak, since not even the more sensitive of sensors registered him as a mutant. But he couldn't be a regular human, because if he was, the belt wouldn't have any inhuman energy to suck out of him.

Damon dared to get closer to the prisoner garbed in papery hospital pants. It was clear he had been given those clothes after some minor analyses had been made. His jet-black hair and pale skin were very unimpressive; there was nothing that denoted him as a mutant.

Further inspection of the readings confirmed that the mutant's heartbeat was slower than it should be. His breathing was half the rate of a human's most of the time. Sometimes all of his bodily functions seemed to speed up to a human rate before returning to "normal."

As if sensing Damon's presence in the room, the body shuddered, and then looked at him with a pair of bright blue eyes. Captured by their dazed gaze, he froze, until a blink gave him release from their spell. He took a mental step back as something odd struck him: the prisoner seemed familiar… and seemed to recognize him as well.

"Mr. Gray?" A note of shock rung clear in his rough voice, blue eyes widen in slight panic.

"How do you know my name?" Damon demanded instantly, angry. Perhaps it was the same part that seemed to recognize him from somewhere that told him that the prisoner's name was not Mr. Daniel Williams.

"Nametag. I…are you Va-never mind. Where am I?" The prisoner's voice was weak but determined.

"A military prison. Who is Va-? What were you about to say?" Damon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Va. Did this man know about… "Valerie?"

The prisoner went visibly pale. "No, sir. I was going to say…going to say Va-Vanessa!" A twitchy smile glided across his face. A smile that was clearly fake. It didn't require a genius to see that.

"Who are you?" Damon's voice changed to an almost-growl. He glared threateningly at the prisoner. Something deep inside him demanded he punched the mutant.

"Daniel Williams." A lie. Damon's anger grew, but a sharp ping from the security system that he knew Alexander had sent made him turn on his heel. It was a warning to back away from the prisoner; the bosses probably were making their way there.

No need to antagonize his bosses so early on. And despite him having done so with frequency, something told him he would regret later if he failed to leave immediately.

…

Damon arrived home late that evening as predicted. Valerie was indeed settled at the table. A few moments after he entered, Val mumbled, "Supper's in the fridge." She didn't say anything else, probably upset that she had to cook when he had promise to do it this time around.

Trying to sooth her obvious bad mood, he attempted to engage her in conversation. "What're you studying?" No answer was given. After several minutes of silence only filled with cutlery clinking against ceramic platter, he tried again, the prisoner's unexpected connection jumped to the front of his mind, so he couldn't help but pry. "Do you know anyone named Daniel?" He asked with as calm facade. The name rang a bell in his head, though he didn't know why.

Abruptly Valerie responded rather tersely. "You know I do, Dad. So do you. He disappeared years ago. By now he's dead. I hope he's dead." Her hands tightened into fists with anger.

Sensing an incoming response, she snarled at memories best left unburried. "Fenton!" She spat the name as though it were poison inside her mouth. Her hands curled into fists.

It felt like his flashback earlier in the day had summoned a specter. The ghost of the man who broke what was left of Valerie's faith in humanity.

Because, while his daughter had clearly felt something for the boy before the accident, it was nothing compared to the love that grew in her chest by the devotion he showed when coming every day, bringing her his notes of the classes, telling her about the happenings on the school to the point she could imagine herself being there.

Even Damon warmed up to the kid as he came with kind words, bringing the light back to his daughter's eye with every kind gesture and corny joke. That the kid never made a move on his daughter in his presence –which meant he didn't even share a kiss for months because Damon was always there— made it clear for him that the kid was serious in his relationship with his daughter. He even smiled instead of disapproved as Valerie told him about him coming to her, at age 14, with a ring and a sheepish smile, wanting to ask her something.

She had been unable to continue her tale, for a sharp acute pain had pierced her brain, and she was unable to recall him asking her out, nor her own cheerful response. But she knew what was going to come out of his lips, and knew the feelings she had for her, so them becoming boyfriend and girlfriend was the natural development there.

The visits continued for over a year, and he eventually began to visit less and less, mostly out of Valerie's own insistence. She didn't want him there while she was going to rehab. He respected and stepped aside. And it was by doing that that Damon knew the boy was the one person who could make Valerie happy: a man who cared and was there for her, but gave her space when she needed it… So it was as much a shock for him as it was for Valerie when, the day she was allowed to go out, the day she planned to surprise her boyfriend with her full recovery, that they found Danny Fenton kissing passionately with the Goth girl that he hanged with.

Needless to say, Valerie punched him hard, and the sound of the kid's broken jaw seemed to echo the sound of her heart breaking.

Damon never forgot the tears in Val's eyes, as he never forgot the bewilderment of the kid as she stomped away, nor the glare of the Goth girl towards his daughter. He felt the urge to pummel Fenton half to death, but Damon was needed by his daughter too much at the moment.

She refused to go to school after that, even when it had been all that she talked about doing when she recovered. The depression was too deep, she felt so alone, her faith shattered and her world broken. Never had she loved a man like she did then, and it seemed like she would let herself die from sorrow. That she lost a year only added insult to injury, and Damon had to work really hard to save his daughter from herself.

The kid came to visit after the incident, but the door didn't open for him. He walked to her room to tell her he was gone, and saw her looking at his retreating form with sorrow. He never wanted to see her like that again, so he packed everything they owned, got the car he had bought with the blood money earned from Vladimir Masters, and vanished in the night, never again setting foot in Amity Park.

Damon struggled to reign in his temper, ideas passing through his mind, dangerous ideas. He wanted to talk to the Daniel Fenton, to punch him, kick him, beat him while he lay defenseless against the cold table, murder him like he should have the day he broke his daughter's spirit. He yearned to watch the terror in his blue eyes as Damon told him that he knew everything about the link between Fenton and Williams. He wouldn't kill him, but before he would hurt him, finding a way to leave scars in his body as deep as the ones he left in Valerie's heart.

His hands involuntarily curled inwards as he glared at thin air. He could see Valerie's confusion in his periphery. She had seen his angry stance, but it had been more than a decade since he got into one as violent as this. A soft growl passed his throat.

A wicked idea hit Damon: what if he provided this information to his employer? While it might be unwise to pummel Daniel, telling his employers who this man was would likely result in a commendation, and possibly a raise. It might also be more painful for Daniel, which made the whole deal sweeter.

He knew that the government eventually would find that the name this man went by was fake, his whole life a fabrication. A slight ding made sure he knew the phone had been answered, and he heard the voice on the other end say "Hello."

He responded, voice shaking slightly with restrained emotions. "I have some new information about the prisoner. He needs a comparative analysis against Daniel Fenton of Amity Park, California."

Damon's hardened heart didn't even felt a shred of sympathy for the man that had lost his whole family and friends while still a teen, he never bothered asking for explanations for why Daniel had done what he did after showing kindness and care for so many months. The only thing that Damon could feel was satisfaction, basking in a revenge that had years coming.

 **So, how do you like this chapter? Did you like the Senator Kelly part? I did most of that! The rest, however, I owe almost entirely to my beta reader, Chicaalterego. My version was kinda boring…Please leave a review!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	28. Shattered Perceptions

**I own nothing! This entire chapter is finished due to my beta reader, Chicaalterego, who turned it from a part of last chapter into its own chapter. While I did a lot of the scene setting stuff, and some dialogue, she was the one who turned it from a tangled mess into this!**

 _Damon's hardened heart didn't even felt a shred of sympathy for the man that had lost his whole family and friends while still a teen, he never bothered asking for explanations for why Daniel had done what he did after showing kindness and care for so many months. The only thing that Damon could feel was satisfaction, basking in a revenge that had years coming._

Chapter 27: Shattered Perceptions

February 23

Two weeks. That was how long they had been keeping their head low while the world marked them as the enemy. But beyond the fear of what would happen next, there was a boredom and a sense of being trapped. But, fortunately for Kitty, she would be getting a breath of fresh air today, because today was supply day, the closest thing she and Kurt had to going to a party night on the town. Of course, there was the fact that it wasn't a true party night on the town since (1) it wasn't night and (2) they weren't partying.

Kitty knew that partying would be way more fun, but not even her teenage rebelliousness at its worst would allow her to put her friends, or herself, in danger.

But, back to it being supply day, there were important things to retrieve, like food, which was running low at the end of pretty much every day because they were too many on the ship. And fuel, the likes of which they picked up frequently since doing a single trip to retrieve thousands of gallons of gasoline would be too suspicious and get them busted.

At least they hadn't needed to steal yet. All of their money had been bought with them —thank god for the Professor's emergency stash of cash— so they had no problems on that front.

She and Kurt split up this time around; she waited at the bottom of a tall pine while he had climbed it to get a good look of the area. She hummed quietly, pretending she was doing nothing of importance, until a loud pop disturbed her rhythm when Kurt jumped down the tree, then grabbed her arm and teleported away with her without any warning.

It was like they were spies on a recon mission, gathering Intel, like in those movie. Kurt had agreed with her vision once, and seemed to like being the one in charge of something as important of making sure the team lacked for nothing.

He was enjoying it way too much, she decided darkly. What with him getting back that playful spark in his now shadowed eyes, hunted orbs that seemed to hurt with memories she dared not ask him to share. On the other hand, the whole thing made her queasy, to the point that sometimes she wondered if she would prefer to stay stuffed into the Jet with the whines of the terminally bored teenage crew. Probably not, because more often than she wished to be safe in the jet, she was thankful that her intangibility made her a logic option to go since she could phase out of any building and get away safely. She was thankful that the elf was the one to go with her because of his teleportation abilities.

This supply day was particularly sunny and windy. She looked around, basking on the sunlight and the breeze as she vaguely wondered if the tons of blackflies between Mother's and Father's Day in their part of Maine had something to do with the name of the town they were in, Flysville.

As the two of them stood out of a small market, a man with black hair and blue eyes that looked a bit like Mr. Williams walked out of the automatic doors, making Kurt tense, and even she had to work hard to keep her mind off the betrayal. She elbowed him sharply and he cast her an annoyed look before they picked up the pace in a strained silence.

Once they entered the store, they began shopping. Sneaking a couple of packages of chocolate fudge cookies and a few sugary cereals (beside some more nutritive food like meat, lettuce and milk) into the cart slowly cheered them up again. By the time they were finished, they had two carts full of food. They checked everything out after paying (in cash. The cashier stared at them for that) then they made their way out, pushing the carts until they were in a camera blind-spot in the parking lot. Kurt disappeared with a puff of smoke and returned a mere fifteen seconds later with empty carts.

"Did you just teleport the carts from under the food, again?" Kitty asked, eyes crinkling with amusement. She envisioned the reactions of several of the students, groaning with annoyance over having to put so much food on the shelves. She wondered if any of the sweet treats they had picked up would survive long enough for them to get any.

"Yes. I left zie food in the kitchen. I vonder if zie osers vill put it up before our return." Kurt shared a smirk with her, and they both wheeled the shopping carts back to the rows of carts where their carts had come from —the cashier staring at them, again, clueless of how they managed to empty their carts so far.

With the food gathering scratched off the list, they had the tedious mission of getting fuel. "How are ve going to get zie fuel to zie jet visout me being seen teleporting?" Kurt asked, pointing to the bald guy that was filling several huge container of kerosene, which made obvious the man planned to be there for a really long time.

Kitty paused for a moment, letting herself think. "I could distract any customers if there are any. I don't know what exactly I would do, but it could come in handy. Maybe I could steal a car!" She joked promptly.

Kurt snorted. "Zat's probably a bad idea-stealing a car, zat is. But maybe a distraction could be _gut_."

It probably would have been wiser to simply go to another station, or even leave the place and pick twice as much as they usually did the next day, but none of them were all that exited with the idea of facing their protesting friends, who had to put the food in order and probably would be complaining because they got this cookie and not that cookie, then would try to push a list of crap they didn't really need to buy, being as obxionous as grounded toddlers.

Kitty put the five-gallon containers next to the filling stations. Having their jet being capable of flying using common gasoline was a brilliant move, but it made the ship consume a lot of it. Kurt handled the hose, keeping an eye on the machine that was marking how much they would be paying, since none of them wanted to go over the amount they could pay with the cash they had left at hand.

When they'd filled the five containers, Kurt teleported them away to pour the fuel into the jet's tank. That process, unlike the food one, was not one that could be ended in mere seconds, since it was less than ideal to leave the fuel lying around, much less empty the contents of the containers like they had done the shopping cart.

Kitty was a mass of nerves when left alone in the gas station. Regardless, she counted what was left of her money, calculating they could fill tree more containers with what was left. So she picked up only 3 up this time around. As she was done filling the last of them, an elderly man got out of a generic blue car. He started to fill up the tank of his car, looking distracted. Kitty, more than a tad paranoid, work her mind into a not trying to figure out what to do not to look suspicious standing there, with 3 containers of gasoline at her feet when no car was around for her.

"Hi, sir. Do you need any help?" The man didn't acknowledge her presence in the slightest. _I guess that's a no_ , Kitty thought. "Do you know where a good restaurant is? My…boyfriend doesn't know the area that well." She was biting her lip nervously, belatedly realizing the man didn't seem to give a damn about her being there standing around. She would have been a terrible spy.

Finally the guy glanced up, and looked in the direction of her "boyfriend", and Kitty smiled despite of herself because she was no longer alone.

"Go left when you reach that road and walk until you see McGillies Fish Fry. Usually the foods' good. Sure got a lot of gas, young lady." He turned around, dismissing her presence once more. Finally he put the hose back in place, then entered the store to pay for the gas. Kurt entered the store too, after taking the money out of her trembling hands.

Kurt rejoined her a few moments later, seeing as the man drove away. Thankfully, Kurt didn't comment on her blunder, instead he teased her with a grin. "Boyfriend? Seriously? I zought you vere in love vis Danielle." She gave him a shove.

"It was the first thing that came to mind, Kurt. Really." She looked bashful to her feet as they made their way to the safe spot Kurt had teleported from last. It was as she was looking down that her eyes easily spotted an abandoned newspaper of that day lying in a puddle. " _Captured Suspect of Mutant Conspiration,_ " was written in bold, red letters, and Kitty couldn't stop herself from picking the paper up.

… _captured at a warehouse in Bayville. An intensive research effort followed and it was discovered that, while his paper trail was entirely legal, his…_

Suddenly nauseated, she tried to peg the clues together, in such a way that they fitted with what she knew: that Mr. Williams had betrayed them. There had been a mutant in the warehouse where the man had tried to lure Kurt before. Had their teacher used the same trick to lure other mutants in there? How many? When did he gain the trust of so many others like them? How did he know those people were mutants?

The scenes playing into her head were revolting and more than a bit horrifying.

She had missed Kurt's request of waiting there while he went to the bathroom, not even noticing her 'hmm' response. All she was capable of processing was that which she was reading in the blurred lettering, words she had to squint to make out.

 _...At six o' clock, a radio and television show on all the major channels will disclose all the information discovered on the leader of the mutant conspiracy, now in custody of the authorities._

They needed to hear about this mutant. She dashed a few steps forwards, blindly, before bumping into a startled Kurt. "Vat's zie hurry, Kitty?" Kurt asked, clearly confused.

"We need to get back to the jet now! I saw something on the newspaper rack about the warehouse that the others might want to hear." She urged. He understood her implications and teleported away an instant later.

…

They stumbled lightly upon arrival, sprinted into the main room where Hank had spent hours poking the radio until he somehow managed to fix the device with little more than some leftover wire and a lot of duct tape. He probably would have it done on the first day instead of yesterday if not because Kurt and her kept getting the wrong parts every time they tried to buy what he had asked them to.

However, as soon as the radio was fixed, it was turned off, since the bit of news that they could get from it —a lot of praise to Senator Kelly about finally ridding the world of the monsters that put in peril everything that was good and normal— dealt a blow to the morale of the teens. However, the news that was to come was too important to miss given how they had been partly responsible for getting Mr. Williams to the position to lure more innocent mutants towards a trap, and that they all needed to know what could have been the fate of one of their own X-Men.

Kitty rushed to the radio as soon as they got in the ship. It was five past six, which meant the news had already started. She rushed to turn on the fragile, duct-tape-bound radio and turned it on.

Her unusual actions drew the attention of every mutant in the room, who curiously walked closer to the frizzled Kitty and a somber Kurt, standing in front of a radio spouting what seemed to be another long speech of anti-mutant propaganda.

The murmurs in the room were getting louder and louder, to the point it was hard to hear the words of a self-righteous military man who was spitting vitriol about their kind. Annoyed, Kitty tried to turn the volume to its maximum capability... the radio was too much of a mess, though, and instead of getting it louder there, she accidentally put the news on every speaker of the ship.

It was moments later, as the tale of one Daniel Fenton, alias Daniel Williams, was told on the speakers, that the mutants' perceptions of the warehouse incident were shattered forever.

 **Here's a new chapter. How do you like it, readers? Please write a review telling me what you think! With the addition of this chapter, this story is officially the length of a novel (50,000 words). A novel! I never realized it would get this long when the idea was first beginning to form for this story! Have the 50,000 words in it been worth the reading so far?**

 **-MiaulinK**


	29. The Broadcast

**I own nothing! I also have an important announcement up here for my readers. Actually, make that two important announcements. I promise there's a chapter under this long note.**

 **1\. Chaicaalterego is no longer my beta reader.**

" **Ahhhhhhh!" The readers of this story.**

 **I cackle, doubled over with evil laughter, as my readers shriek in horror, envisioning a future of dry chapters, and either cower in a corner, suffering from the beginnings of panic, or attempt to crush their computers in a desperate effort to undo what they just read. I open my mouth, and manage, past the snickers, to say, "Actually, she has been promoted to COAUTHOR! Let all bow before their new rulers!"**

"…"

 **The work that my once-upon-a-time beta has done is a far leap over the job description a beta reader comes with. A prime example is this chapter, which took ages to figure out. My work basically came in the form of a broadcast that did not fulfil the guidelines of journalism, and a few paragraphs of reactions with barely any dialog. I rewrote the broadcast upon hearing this, and Chicaalterego revised it. Then, it took a while for her to figure out what to do with the mess of reflections after I gave it a second shot. Finally, this is what came out. Essentially, the events on the broadcast are mine, as are a few sentences. The way they are put, however, is about 99% Chicaalterego, or maybe 99.9999…%**

 **Therefore she has an upgrade! Also, an imaginary, if-I-had-cash pay raise.**

 **2\. Updates are going to be slow for a bit. We got to this chapter and Chicaalterego found that I hadn't planned everything out. Thanks to her pushing I have a more thorough timeline. I'm sorry that I didn't update sooner, and I'll see if I can get things out closer to my usual Tuesdays, but this story is going to be undergoing both some plot-fixing and revision of earlier chapters. A little update message in your "alert" section will not necessarily mean that the chapter is new to the story, though I'll try to put up most of my edited chapters at the same time that I post my new chapters. That may not always happen.**

 **On to the story!**

 _It was moments later, as the tale of one Daniel Fenton, alias Daniel Williams, was told on the speakers, that the mutants' perceptions of the warehouse incident were shattered forever._

Chapter 28: The Broadcast

Patriotic music filled every room of the jet, making heads spin and scowl towards nowhere in particular as the sounds bounced from every wall. The dark mood permeating the atmosphere from two weeks of hiding grew even more somber when the mutants recognized the notes that opened up every governmental speech of hatred against their kind.

The people in the main room, where the radio was held, looked at the blue mutant and his brown-haired companion who were opening the gates to a battering ram of devastating news.

The music was as mocking to their ears as it was inspiring to the normal folk, the ones all too ready to toss blame on those who were different for all the wrongs in the world.

The mutants from other rooms: Ororo and Logan from the training room, Hank and Charles from the jet's small stack of books, even the few teens sneakily eating all the junk food from the latest supply shopping, moved towards the main room like mice being led by the Pied Piper of Hamelin. Only the shell of Scott Summers, considered alive by the technicality of possessing breathing lungs and a beating heart, stayed nearly unmoving where he laid, in his room, quietly fingering a shirt, one of the few things left of his Jean which he had been able to take with him.

Then the music lowered to a muted background, while the merciless, holier-than-thou voice of a military man thundered from the speakers with the force of a tsunami, pushing a terrifying reality further into the minds of his listeners, twisted with three years of hatred for mutantkind.

 _Citizens of our nation, I speak to you in these times in which humanity faces its greatest enemy in history: mutants._

 _They, the enemy, have lived among us. Some of them act like us, look like us and even call themselves Americans. But they are not like you or I. They are menaces, ticking bombs that walk among the people we love, threatening everything that is good and decent. And they are no longer pretending to be happy with things as they are._

"Why're you making us hear this crap? Turn the radio down!" Jamie protested, anger filling his voice to prevent fear from shining through. He dreaded what might come through the radio.

"Shut up and listening-there's something you need to hear," Kitty huffed, unmoved by Jamie's glare.

 _-want to destroy us. Have no doubt that nowhere is truly safe; we must exterminate them before they kill every member of the human kind._

 _There have been several attacks in the last few weeks, attacks in which good people have been hurt. It has been thanks to the efforts of our army and the sentinels that we've been able to stop mutant attacks, but even our best of efforts have not been enough to stop the bloodshed._

"Well, that doesn't sound like bull at all," Ray jabbed.

"Oh, shush you," Kitty chastised, hoping he would just shut up.

 _A Friends of Humanity gathering in Houston, Texas on Friday was interrupted by a nitrous mutant who exploded, massacring fifty-seven humans and leaving ninety-one hospitalized._

 _The Phoenix was just the opening act, the mutants' cry of war. It made everyone certain of what is to come. And the symbolism of the attack in Texas should be clear to all. They don't want peace. They want to destroy us, and have no doubt that nowhere is truly safe while they exist, so we have to exterminate them before they kill every member of the human kind._

Then, after the customary slander, came the important part of the broadcast, one as full of vital information as it was full of lies, fact and fiction wrapped around the other until it was impossible to know where one ended and the other began.

 _Attacks all over the country are sprouting rapidly. The mutants' dangerous abilities have been put to use against us over and over in the past week. The flippancy with which these attacks take place, and the deep emotional and physical scars on their victims, demonstrate once more the devastating effect a mutant's warped sense of superiority can have on the humans who survive it._

 _The mutant, calling himself Nitro, claimed to be an agent of vengeance when captured by the Mutant Response Division. He raved about humans who had 'changed everything, made everything wrong'. What have we done if not protect our kind from a threat? They act victimized while murdering men and children. They seem to expect us to bend a knee while they ravage our country._

 _We might not have their abilities, but we are not without power. We have captured many mutants of the group Acolytes, headed by mutant conspirator Magneto, whose message of violence and mutant superiority is uniting the threat under one banner. The leader of this insurrectionist group is yet to be apprehended, but it's a matter of time before we do. What was a massacre is now a war since humans all over America began to wake up to the growing threat and fight back._

 _The military has chosen to join our cause after an attack in New York by one Daniel Fenton, son of deceased weapon manufacturers Madeline and Jack Fenton. The Fenton family had built many lethal devices, all operated by a highly volatile substance. This devious mutant had joined the system under the alias Daniel Williams-_

"Wait, what?!" It was impossible to determine who said the words, but it was a testament to the general shock in the room that not even Kitty tried to shush the speaker.

 _-working to shape the minds of our children and recruit young mutants, training them and organizing them._

 _This mutant's involvement with Xavier's mutant institute is evidence that the claim of these groups, that they are trying to build a future in which humans and mutants can coexist in harmony, is a lie._

Nobody held the illusion that they would be spared from the hate of the general public, but it still hurt to be spoken of like that. But the most shocking part had yet to come. And the shock of it would be so intense that every mutant in the ship became speechless in their utter disbelief.

 _Daniel Fenton was apprehended in an attack in which he used his powers and experience in armaments to single-handedly destroy thirty sentinels. That many mutants across America rebelled at the same time speaks of a conspiracy on a scale never before seen in our country. All those minor attacks were destroyed with an iron fist, and the domestic terrorists are now locked up in high security facilities._

 _One must wonder how many more wait for a command to destroy our country. We need to purge the entire world, preventing the mutant epidemic from taking over through any means necessary._

 _We understand that some of you think it is a kindness to protect mutants, but know that mutation is a decease that corrodes the mind and morals. We offer the citizens whose families have been inflicted with this sickness to bring their mutant to Worthington Industries, where the scientists developed the cure. The vaccine will be applied, for free, to all mutants that willingly come to get rid of the problem and rejoin our community as healthy members of the human race._

 _We welcome those who chose to rejoin us, but know our mercy will not go beyond those who mend their ways. It is clear that many mutants will continue to fight us, to try to establish a new order in which humanity is a slave to their desires._

 _We continue to fight for the powerless, for the little people of America. But we cannot fight this war alone. We need you to be strong, so we can get back up as a stronger nation. If you know of a mutant hiding in your vicinity, call the police. If nothing is done, you could be the next dead human on the ever-growing list._

Then, as the ominous end was delivered to the masses, the patriotic background tune died and, to add more insults to already-insulted injuries, the anthem of the United States of America began, sung by a full orchestra.

A pale hand turned down the radio with a numb, detached movement. The silence that filled the room was deafening.

Then the world exploded in sound.

"How did/why/who/do-id that/not/say-aid?/Fen-Wil-30 sent/ captured?/ran./accepted?/knew. I-" The cacophony of questions and claims shake even the metal floor tiles in the main room. The louder voices eclipsed the timid mutters, the tone of voice of each word clashing in a fight to be heard among all others. Doubt and indignation welled up with the force of an erupting volcano but all of the questions remain unanswered because everyone else was thinking and saying the same things at the same time but nobody was _listening_.

"Enough!" Ororo demanded, calling forth a soft rain over the heated cacophony, making the younger members jump and squeal but ultimate snap out of it.

Then the silence was back.

A silence pregnant with implications.

Mr. Williams was not Mr. Williams.

War was at their doorstep.

Daniel Williams was Daniel Fenton, a dangerous criminal.

Magneto was taking action.

The military joined the anti-mutant initiative.

Their math teacher was a mutant.

Mutants were being hunted; many were already prisoners, turned into lab rats.

Worthington Industries created a vaccine to make mutants normal.

Daniel Fenton single-handedly destroyed 30 sentinels.

They betrayal of the warehouse was never a betrayal.

A completely inappropriate giggle filled the air. Everyone turned to see Kurt, body curled and face looking towards the wall, slumped into a chair. "He never betrayed us, never betrayed me… I was the one who left him behind." He was clearly hysterical, shaking like his own miniature earthquake.

"Kurt," Kitty begged, seeing something terrifying in the face of her best friend, "please calm down. It-"

"I don't want to hear it!" He yelled. "You're going to say it wasn't my fault! That I didn't know! But guess what? It doesn't really matter what you say. The way he looked at me back then, it was like he was saying sorry, but I never thought… I didn't understand. I thought it was guilt, but if he never cared about us why would he feel guilty? He cared about us! He fought for us! And what did I do? I left him behind."

Memories that had been repeating over and over in his mind for the past two weeks suddenly transformed into a new, looming monster, engulfing him, taking his misconstrued interpretations, chewing them up, and spitting them into the garbage, consuming him with as much guilt as he could feel.

 _"Kurt, could you take me?_ _Can you teleport to an area you've never seen… "_ Mr. Williams asked him, blue eyes filled with a light that was not leftover madness but a new purpose.

 _"He betrayed us. I took him to the place he wanted to go. It was a warehouse. It was filled with sentinels,"_ He went there for them, to fight the sentinels.

" _You can teleport!.. He wouldn't take with him someone who could teleport if he meant to harm us!"_ Kurt should have realized that, in hindsight, it was obvious; but then Kurt had thought Jaimie was naïve, and tried to convince everyone Mr. Williams was a traitor.

 _"How did he look, then?"_ Jamie insisted.

 _"Guilty. Sad. Like he wanted me to see things his way."_ Kurt had been blind to the true meaning, too quick to jump to conclusions, blind to the truth displayed in apologetic, sad, blue eyes.

 _"See? He had to! Otherwise he wouldn't feel guilty."_

 _"I'm sorry."_ Daniel gives Kurt a sad smile, a smile that means goodbye.

 _"I thought you were our friend."_

' _I thought you were our friend,' the words echoed in his mind and Mr. Williams flinches. Kurt hoped his words conveyed the depths of his disgust and hatred for him. Then Kurt abandoned him with a pop._

Kurt's eyes brimmed with tears that slowly fell as he spoke, "If I hadn't left him behind, then he…" The words refused to leave his lips.

"Look, kid, if you had taken that man back with you, those sentinels would have come after us. Mr. Williams, no, Daniel Fenton knew that, so he bought us time. He knew we didn't stand a fighting chance against those sentinels, we still don't. Not without paying too high a price," Logan tried to hammer home it home that this was probably the best outcome given the circumstances. "That man knew what he was doing, he knew what would happen to him, but he did it regardless. I don't think you would have been able to stop someone capable of taking down 30 sentinels."

Kurt felt slightly less responsible upon hearing those words (because it was true, he couldn't beat a Sentinel on his own, much less a man capable of tearing apart 30 of them), but he didn't feel any less guilty. He had distrusted and abandoned a friend, thinking him a monster because he didn't understand. And, for a moment, he felt the same despise for himself that he did for the militia treating mutants like filth.

Kurt was disgusted with himself.

The topic changed when Kitty pointed to the proverbial elephant in the room, "Why didn't we know Mr. Williams was a mutant? Cerebro should have picked up that he had the X-gene. It has worked to point out every other mutant in the area before."

"That is not necessarily the case. Cerebro only picks up the signal of mutants that have awakened their powers, and the X-gene becomes active during puberty, staying active until the mutant's death. However, it's clear that Mr. Daniel's reason for remaining undetected is not his age." Charles Xavier explained, pensive look in his eyes. "This is only a theory, but I believe it might have to do with his mental defenses,"

"Mental defenses?" Ororo asked.

"When I met Mr. Williams started to become a common feature in our lifes, I attempted a mental probe to make sure there weren't evil intention behind his actions. In the end, I couldn't read his mind. I could feel vague emotions coming from him, but anything beyond that, it was impossible to check… I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't prove me wrong in my choice."

"He must be a really strong mutant to be able to defeat so many sentinels," Jamie breathed in awe. "Do you really think he was gathering a mutant army? Maybe we can get in contact with them and go to the government to free the captive mutants. Then we can repay the favor by saving him back!"

Several of the students of Xavier's Institute perked up a little at the claim. A spark of hope was kindled by the enthusiastic words-they might be able to get their teacher back.

But not everyone was bewitched by the implications of an army being built.

"Why didn't he tell us what he was planning?" Kitty was a whirling storm of emotions, angry, relieved, shocked, confused, and hurt. It's immediately obvious that his 'betrayal' was planned, and that he had been aided by the mysterious 'telephone friend'. "We could have helped! Instead he chose to trick Kurt to deliver him to danger! Did he ever stop to think what Kurt would be feeling because of that? What it would mean to us? If he did, he didn't care," she was being unfair, she knew, but she was hurting, she was confused, she was scared. And, like any cornered cat, she lashed out: "And what do we know about him? Nothing! That's what! For all we know he was working for Magneto!"

"It's unlikely that he worked with the Acolytes," Hank mumbled under his breath, then added, in response to Kitty's comments, "He wasn't thinking straight until that very night. Maybe he didn't trust us, maybe he thought we'd stop him. But the fact remains that he did what he did, and that proves the kind of person he is. Even if we don't know anything about his past, even if everything he ever spoke lies to us, his actions speak louder. So I'm sure I know Daniel, our friend."

"Who knows, Hank? Maybe he did work with the Acolytes to some degree," Ororo unexpectedly contradicted the previous claim. "I'm not saying I think this is the case, but it is a possibility that Magneto had noticed he was a mutant."

Kitty broke in. "So what, are you saying he would work for Magneto so he wouldn't tell us the truth?" Kitty's hand was lightly touched against her head, and Kurt guessed she had a headache again, and that the stress of the situation was making it worse.

Ororo placating explained why she thought an alliance was a possibility "We know Magneto can be very convincing when he wants to be. Maybe he managed to convince Daniel Fenton that his path was the right one. It is also possible that he would choose to protect the future of mutants, even if that meant he should fight humans. Which is a possibility. He told us that the friend he spoke to over the phone was not a regular human, and something tells me this one is not his only unique friend. If he protected us like he did, who is not to say he wouldn't do more to protect his other friends?" her words were naught but suppositions, but they had a ring of truth that couldn't be denied.

Kitty was a bit placated by the reasoning, but couldn't help but adding in a bitter tone "He still didn't trust us. He should have said something." Murmurs of agreement filled the air for a minute.

Hank cleared his throat, the sound making the murmurs stop. Once he had everyone's attention, he made an educated guess "I don't think he hid the truth for a malicious reason. Maybe he's grown used to hiding, and he wasn't ready to say anything? Maybe his parents reacted really badly to him being a mutant and he grew afraid to tell others?" It was a horrifying possibility. There were parents who didn't accept their kids, parents who kicked them from home, that hurt them… but if Daniel's parents had been weapon dealers… suddenly the old scarring Hank had found on the man's body were painting a frightening tale.

Hanks knew without being told that there was a great deal more to the story of Mr. Williams' life. He is certain that most of it must have been unpleasant. All the nights he caught Mr. Williams reading late –stubbornly refusing to go to bed, deep shadowed circles growing around his eyes, hands shaking with exhaustion– he had seen the something haunting in his look. So Hank had asked him why he refused to sleep, and only uncovered one thing: nightmares, nightmares that might just be memories haunting his mind.

"I don't care if he _is_ with Magneto!" Marie spoke heatedly "I don't care that he didn't tell us he was a mutant! We owe him our lives now, so we are taking him back!" her breath ragged as she met every eye in the room with a pointed look, "We are getting him back, and once we do, we will have him telling us the truth, and if he doesn't, then I'll pull it out of his skull!"

The impromptu speech caused a ripple of cheers to fill the air, nearly every one of the mutants getting carried away with the passion of the words as well as agreeing completely with the sentiment in it.

It also didn't hurt that, yes, Marie could get to the truth via touch.

But the celebration didn't last long. The professor, who was burdened with the duty of making the hard decisions, had no option but to burst their bubble. "We cannot rescue Mr. Williams. Not when there are bigger matters that we need to deal with first."

Many wanted to deny those words, and they would have, if it wasn't the Professor who spoke them. So the Professor kept on talking uninterrupted, telling them with unavoidably wariness about the implications for the supposed cure for mutants: mutation was not something that could be changed since it was part of mutant's DNA. It was a conversation that had been held before, but never in such great depth. He spoke about the many mutants willingly walking to a government trap, he warned them all not to believe a word of it.

…

Erik Lehnsherr felt familiar dark emotions rolling in his chest. His plot, making sure that the mutants of the world allied themselves under his banner, for them to realize that it was a war between them and the society that they would never be part of, was working, but there were nearly insurmountable odds against them. Sometimes he doubted himself and wished he'd never revealed the mutant population until they could stand more than a fighting chance.

Magneto had seen too much of the horrors humanity had subjected his kind to: the genetic testing centers developed worldwide to test children and pregnant women for the x-gene, he knew how they sometimes made women pregnant with mutants to abort their babies to dissect the fetuses, and other times let them be born, treating the babies like lab rats, subjecting them to a life of pain until their delicate bodies failed and ultimately perished. The older mutants never fared any better. He couldn't understand how Charles could be so blind as to not to see that peaceful harmony was but a fool's dream.

Erik's dream was simple, to give the mutants the opportunity to claim their place in the world. They were the next step of humanity, they were the evolution, the _homo superior_. They were born to rule the masses! But the bigotry of those humans had killed so many mutants in his need to maintain their mediocrity, and for a long time, very few of them knew of the truth, very few of them were willing to listen. And, in their complacency, because they didn't strike when they should have, the enemy had time to grow strong, so strong that they no longer needed to hide on the shadows.

Now more than ever, the mutants needed a leader. They needed someone who could command them all to use their abilities to their fullest and defeat an enemy that surpassed them 100,000 to one. And who better than him to become that leader? He who had been fighting the good fight and preparing while so many others dilly dallied under a dream of normalcy?

He'd sent mutants to so many labs, to many military facilities where his kind were trapped in cages like animals, to release them. He sent his Acolytes to search the mutants that were alone and vulnerable, offering them a safe heaven. But he knew that wasn't enough. He needed the world to see, to squash, the hope of belonging and reconciliation. So he had his men attack events, the Friends of Humanity being the bigger to destroy and make the message to those who were left drifting without direction. He needed the mutants to know that someone out there was doing what had to be done.

That the attacks had resulted in casualties and the capture for some of his men was inevitable, but the loss didn't scare them, instead it emboldened them. They would never leave their kind to sacrifice themselves in vain…though that didn't mean he was happy to lose Nitro. Robert Hunter was a strong mutant deeply devoted to the cause, one some of his plans relied heavily on. He would probably even need to rescue him because of his usefulness. It was a shame he was so easily captured.

The most infuriating thing about the broadcast had been the promise of mutants becoming humans. The claim that that which made them superior was a sickness offended him deeply, and struck to the core of his vow to never suffer under another Third Reich. He knew that many mutants would be lured by the promise of normalcy, and he would leave them to the claws of the government if only because they wanted to get rid of something that should make them proud.

And there was no doubt that was a trap, a trap that would have conveniently weeded the weak from the strong, a trap that could be of use to him if he didn't need the manpower as much as he did.

As he lamented his army, lacking in both quality and numbers, there was a phrase that repeated in his head.

… _Daniel Fenton was apprehended in an attack in which he used his powers and experience of armaments to single-handedly destroy thirty sentinels…_

A mutant of very high caliber had been there, right under his nose, and he didn't even suspect a thing. Not even after that day almost 3 years ago when the man had offered his help in the fight against Apocalypse. Now that he looked back on it, he had lost a very good opportunity to add a very powerful mutant to his side.

But surprising as his unawareness of the abilities of this man was, the apparent fact that Charles apparently hadn't noticed the same thing he missed was confusing. That there were no news about any of his friend's X-men getting hurt so far both meant that this man helped them in an escape… and that Charles' useless pacifism was keeping a good number of mutants doing nothing to defend themselves.

But after this broadcast he knew even his old friend would be unable to stay neutral in the war that was upon them.

An alliance would soon be a possibility, and as Charles' soldiers joined Eric's own, they would be able to finally have a fighting chance.

And, since Magneto was planning to rescue Nitro, taking the chance to free Daniel Fenton would earn him the gratefulness of a very powerful mutant and, with a bit of luck, a new key soldier to his army.

 **So…how do you like it? Can you forgive me for taking such a long time? Please leave a review and tell me! If you have any ideas, please, please tell me! Since the plot is still in the works a little bit, you can suggest anything and it may be incorporated. I can't promise it will be, but if it is, I will PM you. If you are a guest, I'll put up a note in the either the next chapter or the chapter I start use of your idea in. It depends on how much of a plot-giveaway that would be! Thanks so much!**

 **-MiaulinK**


	30. Persuasion Part One

**AN: Hi readers! This is Chicaalterego on the keyboard. I got to write this chapter HURRAY! Miaulink fixed all the typoes because she is awesome and has the credit because she is the one to make the big plot... OK, I will stop myself there and let you read my ramblings after the chapter.**

 _And, since Magneto was planning to rescue Nitro, taking the chance to free Daniel Fenton would earn him the gratefulness of a very powerful mutant and, with a bit of luck, a new key soldier to his army._

Chapter 29: Persuasion (part one)

 _"Come on, come on, come on,_ duck _! No! Don't let them get you! Please,_ please _don't die on me! God, have mercy!" Jaime begged, eyes glued to the scene flaring in front of him. He knew the end was near, there was no hope of escape. Death was approaching like an unavoidable storm. He could not understand how everything went so wrong. It was supposed to be a simple..._

 _An explosion, a moment of horrible realization while restless fingers tapped and tapped and tapped. "Please, I don't want to die! No,_ no!" _The menacing glint of a laser reflected eerily on the pristine metal machine and then… and then… the dreaded "GAME OVER!" glared at Jaime from his laptop's screen._

 _"Dammit!" He cursed, barely restraining the impulse of slamming the control against the floor he was sitting cross legged on._

 _"Language," A voice came from Jaime's side and he jumped. He looked towards the door of his room._

 _"Hehe, sorry Mr. Williams," He apologized to the only non-mutant teacher to ever walk the halls of the Institute. The math teacher looked at Jaimie with a raised eyebrow, and Jamie belatedly realized that Mr. Williams was carrying an algebra book. The memory that Jamie had been appointed extra classes so he could get his grades up in algebra slammed into his brain a moment later._

 _Head snapping back to the laptop screen where the evidence of his gaming was displayed (which he couldn't even hope Mr. Williams hadn't seen because the upbeat, yet eerie, background music was very obviously not from anything remotely productive)._

 _"You never showed up to the classroom. As you should have. Two hours ago." Jamie winced._

 _Instead of the harsh reprimand he had been expecting for leaving the man waiting on a classroom for hours, the throaty chuckle met his ears. "I should be giving you detention for this…" Jamie had no way of denying that. He had spent the whole night playing games, too immersed to notice that day had come, much less that it was time to head to school for a mandatory Saturday class that would keep him from flunking the class. Oops._

 _But Mr. Williams' good mood wasn't one of those fake cheery moods people somehow got into to be sarcastic. No. Instead of dropping the smile and unleashing anger, Mr. Williams sat beside Jamie on the floor, back leaning against the wood of the bed Jaime himself was propped against. "Need some help?" he asked. Jamie frowned, but gave the laptop graciously._

 _To be completely honest, Jamie didn't believe his teacher could play games. He was old. Well, not_ old _old, but still, Mr. Williams was a teacher, and the teenager part of Jamie was unable to grasp that teachers had lives outside school._

 _Mr. Williams tapped a few buttons and the game started again, and Jaimie's eyes bulged as his teacher advanced level after level of Doom at a speed that he had never seen anyone do. Then, after an epic hour and a half of events that just_ _had to have been triggered by cheat codes..._

 _"Wow!" Jamie stared with a smidgen of drool on his face as his avatar obtained an epic, flaming sword, that was as long as the muscular avatar was high. Then, with no further prompt, the game was closed… without saving._ "No!" _Jaime let out a shout of pure horror. All those new levels, all that fabulous equipment, gone forever._

 _"Why?" Jamie asked, shocked tears welling in his eyes._

 _Mr. Williams stood up, blue eyes shining with distinctive vindictiveness "Two hours," then he walked out of the room leaving the dreaded algebra book beside Jaimie. "_ This _will teach you not to leave me waiting again." He declared chirpily._

 _Of all inhuman and horrible punishments...Not even by Mr. Logan had managed to impart that amount of grief to Jamie's spirit, and yet…"Wait, Mr. Williams! You have to tell me how you got that totem armor!"_

 _Jamie rushed after the man, book forgotten as he followed the teacher like a hopeful puppy, determined to annoy Mr. Williams until he told him all that he wanted to know. Much to Jamie's frustration, though, the man remained close-lipped, and seemed to enjoy denying the answers he saught._

…

Jamie lets out a small chuckle at the memory that had sneaked into his mind. Mr. Williams had been so unlike his other teachers. The man had never showed any adverse reaction to Jamie's being a mutant, never been rude, never treating him like he was a kid… well, not much. And… yeah, his classes were boring, but Jaimie can't blame him for that. He was a _Math_ teacher for Pete's sake, and no one on Earth could ever hope to make that subject interesting.

Jamie takes a deep breath. The smell of the forest around him, humid and full of life, fails to uplift his mood as regret pangs sharply inside his heart. 'Why didn't I push harder to make them understand? I could have made Kurt go back to the shack!'

Truth being told, Jamie knows he had no chance to convince Kurt to go fetch Mr. Williams back. That doesn't stop him from fantasizing a scenario where Kurt went back, getting the teacher into the plane, and they wouldn't have to feel guilt for sacrificing a good friend so they could escape safely.

Jamie trips over a raised root, stumbles, and regains his balance. His breaths are heavy with exhaustion, rasping lungs burning with air deprivation. His eyes close for a moment as he runs his fingers through his hair. Maybe going for a jog to clear his thoughts was not a good idea; not when he would get too focused on his memories to notice where he was going. It is a miracle that he has not fallen to the ground yet with how much he had been stumbled.

Stopping under the canopy of trees, he tries to get his breathing back to normal. Slowly he manages to do so, straightening and wiping the sweat away from his damp brow. Limp, wet hairs hang over his eyes, unkempt and long, obscuring his vision. He looks a right mess. Feels like one too, and he shudders to imagine how Kurt (who had a more direct hand in Mr. Williams demise) is feeling when Jamie himself is feeling awful.

Jamie shook his head. He doesn't want to think about Kurt right now. The dismayed expression on the usually cheerful mutant had made Jamie feel horrible, especially so because, in a moment of utter stupidity, Jamie had looked Kurt in the eye and told him the equivalent of "I told you so". Which was pretty mean in hindsight, but Jamie had been angry at Kurt for leaving his favorite teacher behind.

Suddenly, Jamie starts running anew. Jamie runs fast, fast, faster, speeding until he imagines that the forest around him is nothing more than a blur of verdant greens and contrasting hues of brown. For a moment, he pretends he is one of the superheroes he read so much about when he was ten, before his mutation struck. For a moment Jamie can pretend that he can escape the guilt and avoid tomorrow because he is running too fast for that to catch up.

It takes barely any time to reach the forest edge, thanks to almost five years of tough training sessions with a teacher who wouldn't take 'I can't' for an answer. Once he leaves behind the thick of the forest he stumbles upon a small river, one he had not known was there because he had never ventured so far from the plane.

Jamie collapses by the side of the river, muscles spasming and skin burning. He looks up to the sky, lazy clouds floating on the blue expanse. It is a beautiful day, but Jamie's world is far from shining. Not when the broadcast from earlier that day has shaken his world with so little mercy. And it is not only the broadcast –with its thinly-woven explanation, fraught with holes, raising more questions than providing answers— which makes him need to run with the slim hope that he can get the Professor's words out of his head.

" _There is no rescue plan, Jamie. As much as I hate to admit it,_ _we are unable to rescue him. The government's security measures are bound to be extensive: armed guards, surveillance cameras, reinforced walls, Sentinels… there is bound to be those at the very least. We cannot move hastily, lets we lose more that we can win._

 _Jamie can hear his retort to the claim hopelessly trying to push the tile on the other direction._ _"But we need to save him! We can't abandon him there!"_ _Jamie felt like he had said those words so many times already. It was obvious to him that they needed to get Mr. Williams back, so why weren't they doing it?_

 _"We can't. And we won't. Even if Mr. Daniel has been our friend for three years isn't worth the loss of life involved. I can't let you take that risk…"_

Jamie had not wanted to hear the rest of what the professor had to say. Jamie feels betrayed. The Professor is supposed to have all the answers, is supposed to be able to make everything better! But he's giving up now! Not even when Jean was taken over by the Phoenix did Charles Xavier stopped trying. He had searched fervently for a solution.

It is like the professor isn't even trying anymore. Maybe because he never considered Mr. Williams one of them… or would the professor abandon _them_ if push came to shove? Would the X-Men abandon Jamie if he was inconvenient? He wishes he could declare firmly they would come for him, but now… he is no longer sure.

Jamie shakes his head. It's ridiculous. He knows his friends better. Even if the adults are too scared to take action, he knows there are those who would willingly face hell for one of their own. And Mr. Williams, even if they know so little about him, is an X-Men.

Now all Jamie has to do was convince the others to form a party to rescue their most heroic teacher.

…

Baby-pink fingernails scratch-rap on the metal counter as the coffee machine slowly fills. She sighs, walks to the fridge and takes out a jar of milk, a small ceramic pot ready in her other hand. Her forehead throbs. She has such a big headache. She turns around and walks to the microwave to put the milk to heat so the coffee doesn't get ruined by pouring cold milk-

Kitty entered the kitchen. Hand empty, no ceramic pot in hand, no coffee filling the machine.

A headache strikes again. She rubs the bridge of her nose. She feels disorientated for a moment, she tries to shrug the goosebumps trailing her arms off. She walks again towards the coffee pot. It is exactly where she remembers pulling it out, at the exact same angle. So is the coffee powder, the milk, the pot...

She makes the coffee again. She drinks it.

A white tooth slowly chews on her lower lip. She feels depressed, not without reason, of course, and the reason is quite obvious.

 _"Kitty, Kurt, please come, I need to speak with you." The professor asked and they followed him to the small library. Kitty herself pushed the wheelchair into it. Then he looked at them both in the eye, the resolve on his face faltering. It had been a surprise to her, since she had never seen the professor so, well, human. She had always put him on a pedestal, and realizing he was a flawed being like everyone else... no, it was the fact that he showed himself to them, to her, so flawed and tired that drove home the punch. She realized that she no longer was one of the kids. She was one of the adults. She should have known. She had graduated, she had been handed the dangerous and important duty of supply gathering. Yet, it had not settled that she... she was no longer a child to be protected. She was now saddled with the weight of protecting the younger generation in the ship. It made her queasy._

 _She once would have reveled not to be seen as a kid anymore._

 _Now her adulthood was filling her veins with dread of making a mistake._

She refills her mug. She starts to drink it with dainty sips.

 _"I know you care about Mr. Williams a lot. I know you spent more time with him than I ever did. I know his presence helped a lot to make you feel like the humans one day would accept us as he did. And I know that, in the past, you took the initiative to go and help when you were told to stay." Kitty and Kurt winced. A memory of them sneaking into this very jet to chase after Mr. Logan,_ poofing _into the ship as it began to soar and hiding their presence until he had no option but to take them with him. Kitty could see why the Professor would be concerned they would pull such a stunt again._

 _"I understand none of those times ever had dire consequences," the professor continued, "but this time is different. I need to know you promise you will stay behind, to keep the students from rushing into a fate worse than death. I have no doubt Mr. Daniel knew what awaited for him. He tricked us into letting him do something that we would never ask of him...and he did it to protect us."_

 _"Vut," Kurt began and the professor looked at him with an odd mix of guilt and pity._

 _"He made a choice. And I would like to believe he knew I would keep the children safe at all costs."_

 _"Even if the cost vas him," Kurt whispered. Kitty wanted to throw up._

 _"I need you to promise me you will put the life of the students above anything else. I know it's a lot to ask of someone as young as you... but we are at war. And I think we must stay strong, stay together," Kitty felt dizzy, her head was hammering, a knot stuck on her throat. "Please," The professor asked and she knew defeat. The old man looked like he was carrying the world on top of his shoulders. So she promised. And the words felt like shackles tying her to the floor._

 _Kurt let out a pained growl, a broken nod, and then teleported out of the room._

Kitty looks down to her hands. The coffee has gotten cold. She deliberates throwing it down the sink. She drinks it anyway, the residual beverage unpleasant in her mouth. She gags. She puts the empty mug in the sink, then washes it. The motions are robotic, as she is in autopilot now. She dries the mug and puts it in a drawer, then lets her feet lead her nowhere specific.

She finds the halls and paths all curiously empty, but she doesn't question it. It was already been pretty late when she made it into the kitchen and she assumes everyone is already on their beds, having nightmares or trying to catch some sleep. Her steps echo in the silence, a muffled thud instead of the soft clang her shoes usually make on the metal surface. She is only wearing socks, too rattled by her latest nightmare to bother with her appearance.

She doesn't want to fall sleep again. A mental image of Mr. Williams being locked into a giant hamster cage, body broken and eyes empty plays before her mental eyes. She has imagined him back with the blue-jeans and well-worn shirt he had used on her first driving lesson, but the clothes are covered in blood. The government agents are holding a massive saw, sneering as they cut him into pieces, mocking him because such a mighty, powerful mutant is reduced to nothing. Another mutant stain to be cleaned from the world.

She stops suddenly. She should have already reached her room, but she discovers she is barely a few steps out of the kitchen. Her head hurts again. She feels dizzy. She is losing her mind.

Muffled thuds filling the air, she walks forward in empty corridors. She makes it to the bathroom. A quick shower and a bit of mouthwash does wonders for her mood. She puts on the same clothes she had come in with, and leaves the bathroom. The throb in her head has yet to go away, but it feels a little bit better and her heart is beating at a slower tempo.

She gets out of the bathroom feeling exhausted, like the coffee in her system has been flushed somehow.

"There you are!"

Kitty jumps, startled.

"I've been looking all over for you!" Jamie looks as though he has just gotten out of training with Logan: tossed hair, scrapped clothes, grass leaves in his hair and mud in his shoes, not to mention he is soaked.

As if to answer the unasked question that is written all over her face when she notices how messy he is, Jamie starts rambling about what he was doing earlier that day "I went out for a jog. I needed to clear my mind, and didn't notice I went too far, and it got late. So I came back a few minutes ago, and was looking for you. Not in the bathroom! Because that would be creepy, but, you know, around; and now I found you, and need to talk to you, not only you, of course, I need to talk with the others too... am I babbling? sorry I'm babbling, I-"

"Jamie," Kitty puts a hand in front of his mouth. "Please breath."

"Breath, yeah. I can do that," Jamie takes a deep breath, looking a bit rattled. Kitty has a feeling she knows where this conversation is headed.

"Is this about Mr. Williams?" Kitty asks before Jamie can go into another rambling spree.

"Yeah," Jamie admits. "But hear me out, _ok_?. I have a plan. We take Kurt to take us to where he is being taken, you phase us through the guards, and then I sent my duplicates to find him. Then, we go where he is and have Kurt teleport us out and-"

"Jamie," she interrupts, "we are not going to rescue Mr. Williams."

"What?!" Jamie asks, incredulous. " _Why?_ "

"Because... It's too dangerous. The professor is right. We need to stay together, not go into some rescue mission where we could get ourselves in danger."

"So you're abandoning him because you are scared?"

"NO!" Kitty snaps "I'm just not going to put us in danger, I'm being responsible," she declares with more conviction than she feels. "I'm an adult now, I can't-"

"You're an adult now, Kitty. You can make your own decisions. If you could use your computer skills and figure out where he's being kept, and convince Kurt to come, it'd be a breeze. We'd be fine, and we could go there and be back before the teachers know. And, once we are back with Mr. Williams, then they would have no other choice but see we were right all along."

Kitty sighs, "You do know that being a little good with a computer doesn't translate in me being able to hack into the government files? Not that I'm agree to go, mind you, I still think it's a stupid idea, but for argument's sake, tell me, how do you plan to find out where Mr. Williams is kept prisoner? You can't realistically plan a rescue if you don't even know where he is."

"You're rescuing Mr. Williams?"

"Bobby!" the two of them jump at his entrance. "What are you doing here?" Kitty asks, startled.

"Had to pee," he replies simply. "If you _are_ planning a secret mission to rescue Mr. Williams, you should pick a better spot than outside the only toilet in the whole ship."

"Well, good thing we are _not_ rescuing Mr. Williams, then," Kitty huffs.

"Why not?" Bobby questions, confused.

"Because we are not! You heard the professor so you know why. I want you to go to bed, _now_!"

"But I got to pee-"

"I said NOW!" Kitty's eye is twitching horribly and the two of them scramble to their quarters. Kitty rubs between her eyes, missing the look of stubborn conviction shared between the two teenagers.

 **AN: Hi there! This is Chicaalterego on the write. Sorry it took so long. The delay is 100% my fault. I have been way busy, it's been horrid. But hey! Miaulink and I have already decided what comes on the next chapter, so it should take less than this one did! You are going to love where this is going Miaulink had a genius long-term plan that has me truly hyped! We have worked a lot of the details and... oh god, I cannot wait till we reach the chapter after this one! Feel hyped with me!**

 **On another subject, I have been toying with the idea of a prequel of this fic, one in which you get to see how Danny got where he is... or maybe a fic in between chapters? Like deleted scenes like the one with Jamie playing video games (because Teacher!Danny in this universe is really cool). But before I start plotting over a possible fic, I wanna know how many of you would actually be interested in such a thing. So... anyone interested?**


	31. Persuasion Part Two

**As per usual, I own nothing. Neither does my coauthor. Pity…if she did, I might be able to bribe her into letting me own it!**

Chapter 30: Persuasion (part 2)

Dreadful revelation after dreadful revelation could make even the most laid-back of people gloomy, and mutants were not exempt from this. So it's no wonder that the cheerful Kurt Wagner needs time to come to terms with the hand destiny has dealt him, making it feel as though life was a Russian roulette of betrayal: Mr. Williams betrayed him, Mr. Williams did not; Kurt betrayed his teacher, then felt betrayed by the Professor who refused to let Kurt set everything straight. All in all, he just wishes his world would stop spinning long enough for him to find his footing again.

Kurt needs to get away after the Professor tries to make him promise not to at least try to rescue Mr. Williams, so he teleports out of the room to as far a place he knows he can get to with his powers. He pops onto the roof of the grocery store he had been to earlier that day, the place desolate, dim in the electric streetlamp glow, but the neon lights of a 24hours pharmacy next to it is good enough for him to read the little book he has taken to hiding under his jacket ever since he learnt the truth about Mr. Williams, who was not even Mr. Williams at all. That little book had been a scrapbook the man used to keep with him, and, like any scrapbook, it was full of doodles, bits of thoughts, and random math formulas. In a way, the carefree randomness printed in the pages makes him feel closer to his teacher and savior.

Kurt flips the pages of the book once, then twice, until he has practically memorized the images of people he never knew, but whom he can see meant a lot to the man who drew them from the delicate details. They were probably meant to be transferred to the main book. He flips the pages again, then once more, the pages flipping in the air in an arch of moving paper, with a _ffsh_ and a wisp of wind. Eventually, though, he lets the little book rest, closing it over his stomach, his left arm stretching to cover his eyes from the neon lights flashing brilliantly around the windows of the nearby building.

"Quite the odd choice for a nap." Kurt jumps at the oddly-accented, sing-song voice, mind in full alert in case attack is imminent. "My, my, seems like Billy's little student is a bit jumpy~"

Kurt can't see the man's face since he is standing right in front of the source of light, leaving a black silhouette, but he can clearly see the man is wearing a grey trench coat, a top hat and a pair of red, round glasses. In his hand is a cane with a barely visible skull engraved in ivory on the handle. Strangely enough, Kurt can almost swear he sees a flash of brilliant crimson eyes behind the glasses, and a faint glow around the figure's body. "Who?"

"Ah! Introductions. I am nobody, and everybody. I am Amorpho!...also, a friend of your teacher Billy. I suppose you want the boring introduction." For all the world, Kurt _swears_ the man is pouting.

"I'm Kurt," Kurt doesn't have any teacher named Billy, so, after offering his name, he says as much. Suspicion drifts through him easily, though not given enough time to take root.

"Oh, right, he goes by that silly new name, Wilkins."

There is a moment of confusion, and then Kurt comes to a realization, "Vilkins... you mean Mr. Villiams?"

The man nods, "That's the one. Anyway, our friend Billy Wilkins is in big trouble, as you might know." Kurt feels a pang at those words, even if they don't carry any malicious tone.

"It vas my fault," He declares firmly, if with untold sadness.

"Billy is too much of a goody-goody, so I don't think he has any hard feelings," Amorpho declares. "But, more to the point, I have come to ask some assistance. You see, not many of Billy's friends are fighters, I, myself, am not, but I have heard some members of your, ah, institute are quite remarkable fighters."

Kurt perks up at the man's words "You're planning to rescue Mr. Villiams?"

" _We_ are planning to _help_ you to rescue him," he clarifies, "After all, The Council has forbidden direct action, and even a nobody can't escape the eye of the Observants."

"Huh?" Kurt asks, completely confused.

"I came to offer you a way to travel to where Billy is. We want him back too." Kurt nods. That was probably the most important thing so far. "That is, if you are planning to rescuing him."

Kurt's mind screeches to a halt, then it starts working with a vengeance. He had promised, or as well as, not to do anything rash. But he wants to save his former teacher. He _needs_ to save him. He owes the man that much, and wants to, besides. Before Kurt has thought the words, his mouth is already agreeing to take the man's help into a risky rescue attempt into an unknown government facility. "Excellent, Krum."

"It's Kurt," Kurt corrects, feeling a tad bewildered at getting his name so randomly butchered. Then again, this Amorpho guy has yet to call Mr. Williams by his right name (or alias).

Amorpho continues speaking, undeterred by the correction. "Time is of the essence. So I will come at two tomorrow morning to take you, and the rest of Billy's new friends. Don't be late for our date, Krum~" With those words the man vanishes. Literally. One second he is there and the next Kurt is shielding his eyes from the neon lights once more.

Black and white spots dance in Kurt's eyes for a moment. He waits until he can see normally again, and vaguely notices that the moon is sinking on the horizon before teleporting back to the ship.

...

Kitty is lying on a bed, eyes closed, but wide awake. She can't sleep. She is too stressed, too frustrated, too sick of doing the mature thing and turning down Jamie's offer to form a rescue party. Not too long ago, she would have been the one to go into those completely irresponsible trips of doom, ready to ask for forgiveness instead of permission. And, despite knowing in her head that there is no way for her to know where the man is, and no way to get to any location beyond Maine (where no military base is located to her knowledge) she wants to charge to the rescue, damsel-in-distress-in-reverse style.

She turns around atop the mattress, eyes now pointing towards the other mattress in the room where Marie is sleeping soundly in a long-sleeved pajama. To share the room with her old friend is something that she considers a relief, despite Marie's habit of leaving her half of the room messier and her claims that she needed to use ear plugs because Kitty snored all night. Which is rude... also a lie, Kitty _so_ doesn't snore.

Kitty huffs, sleep evading her desperate clutch tonight. Come morning she will step out of the room looking like a ghastly monster, then look for the professor to ask him for help about her new power... maybe. She doesn't want to see him, not really, and it has stopped acting up after she went back to her room, so it's probably a safe bet to say it will stay dormant... heck, it's probably been her mind playing tricks because of the stress she's tolerating. Like that time a month ago when she painted her nails magenta instead of red, making herself look like a walking fashion disaster since the color of her fingernails was a different one that the one of her _exposed_ toenails.

Kurt, bless his soul, had told her he saw no difference; but her furry friend lacked an understanding of fashion.

"Kitty!" Kurt appears in the room looking more energetic that she has seen him in days. "I met a friend of Mr. Villiams, he said he vanted to help us rescue him! We need to tell zie osers! Not the professor, of course, but Jamie and zie osers!"

"WHOA-whoa-whoa-whoa. Hold your horses, cowboy; what do you mean you met one of Mr. William's friends?"

Kurt smiles toothily, "Right, let me start from zie beginning. After zie professor told us ve vere leafing Mr. Villiams behind, I couldn't stay in zie room, so I vent to get some air. I spent a few hours on zie roof of zie store ve vent to get supplies from today, zen all of a sudden zis guy calls out to me, tells me he knows I vas vun of Mr. Villiam's students. He also seems to know vere our teacher vas and offered to take us zere tomorrow at two."

Kitty nods, no words coming to mind at the moment.

"See? Even visout zie professor's help ve can do somezing about eet now!"

"Kurt, I don't think-"

"I knew I could count on you!" He hugs her, and she hugs him back. She knows she'll be unable to let him go on his own, she knows she will go despite what she said, and she finds she barely cares as she tramples her promise underfoot, sealing her fate with the embrace.

But there _is_ one thing she will put her foot down on. "Nobody but us will go," she declares. "I don't want to endanger more people than necessary, so don't say a word to anybody, especially Jamie. He's way too young to go on this kind of mission."

Kurt frowns, closing his eyes in a thoughtful and unhappy manner. "Oh, all right. Ve are not taking zem vis us."

Kitty nods in approval, "So...who are we taking with us?"

Kurt grows thoughtful, "...how about Scott?"

Marie snorts, alerting both to her presence, "You're not really thinking on taking him? Or what, you think you can have him guilt the military into submission?"

"Marie's got a point, Kurt."

"How about, erm...who else is zere?"

"How about me?" Marie asks, irritably, crossing her arms, though the effect is a little lost given the severe case of bedhead she's gotten.

"Sure!" Kurt celebrates, mostly internally. It is, after all, late. "So zat makes us sree X-Men...plus Mr. Villiams' friends."

"Let's hope that's enough," Kitty adds grimly.

...

The next morning is very unusual. While gloom and pessimism had long since become routine, it is very unusual that half the young people in the plane would be so lethargic. The heavy bags under the X-Students' eyes is something blamed on The Broadcast (it was already infamous to the point of capitalization) of the day before, as is the lack of appetite. The adults, on the other hand, are doing their best to behave normally; but even Hank's amicable talks and kind smiles seem hollow.

If the whole atmosphere wasn't so loaded, and the X-Men so crestfallen, the darting eyes of Jamie and Bobby's nervous foot-tapping would have stood out like a sore thumb. As it is, nobody notices their odd behavior. Even Kurt, Kitty, and Marie don't see it, too caught up in the events of the past few days.

After the accidental meeting outside the bathroom with the high-stung Kitty late at night, the two of them had come to the agreement of going to rescue their teacher. They didn't really have a plan, other than researching about their teacher at the nearest library, then hitch-hiking to the nearest route to the location they guessed he would be close to (thanks, hardworking duplicates), then stow away somehow and rescue him.

They know their plan is not precisely bright, and that their trying to ask for help between their peers could get tattled with the older adults. They had considered telling Kurt, but Kitty is practically glued to the guy's side, which makes it near impossible to get close for long enough to convince him.

Their day is spent on making preparations: they steal some cash from the emergency funds, pack as much food as they can when Kitty and Kurt came back from another shopping excursion and made sure to wear their toughest suits under loose clothing. They don't bother taking more than a change of clothes and extra pair of underwear for the travel, but they do manage to sneak in some flashlights and some rope (not that they know what for, but it won't hurt to carry it).

When the night finally comes, they travel the halls towards the door of the plane, and, for a horrible moment, they think they will be caught by Charles Xavier, who is sleeping in his wheelchair from an angle that looks like he is keeping an eye on the hallway from the open door to his quarters, but they escape, as soundless as mimes.

"We did it!" Jamie cheers softly in relief.

"Shss!" Bobby chides yet more quietly, "We need to be quiet or we'll be found out." Jamie nods.

Slithering in the shadows, Iceman and Multiple, in their mutant uniform regalia, walk backwards with their eyes glued to the door of the ship to be sure that nobody will be coming towards them through it.

Then, as fate would have it, the two mutants' backs bump with three unexpected someones that are also sneaking their stealthy way out.

 **Allo! I'm back! As you can clearly see, this is a new chapter. I'm also going to be fixing some chapters today (Prologue and Chapter 1). My coauthor (you really ought to know her name is Chicaalterego by now) invented this chapter, and I did a little alteration, so remember to thank her! Please leave a review! We're almost at 200 now : )**

 **Anywho, announcements: The conclusion has been arrived at. Chicaalterego will be starting it soon, I believe. I'm working on a few glimpses of his past, myself. It would be both amusing and really awkward if we accidentially came up with different backstories in some areas, or if we wrote separate one-shots for the same event… I've got two complete, and am working on another. I'm not sure whether I'll try to post them in the same story as my coauthor, or if I'll post them separately.**

 **On my DeviantArt profile (MiaulinK), I will be putting up illustrations, as well, and henceforth will put up little links to corresponding illustrations. You are allowed to request illustrations, though I can't promise they will turn up.**

 **I'm afraid many of the suggestions previously given will be partally ignored, but you can see why soon! Oh, I'll be trying to turn out the next chapter much faster. The main reason this one was so late (compared to my weekly attempts) is that DocX wouldn't receive the chapter, and Chicaalterego and I were finishing up brainstorming the rescue.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	32. Merrily to Hell

**Ohhh….Let's not forget those mandatory disclaimer bits! There's a reason most people post them up here! So, basically, I own nothing, much to the grief of myself (otherwise I'd have hired my animators to create a trailer), since my name is not Butch Hartman, and I'm not old enough to run any animation team, so I'm not the owner of X-Men: Evolution, either. What I do own: The OCs, the plot, and the muse that inspired this. What my coauthor owns: coownership with everything as soon as she joined coauthorship, especially since the chapter with the broadcast!**

 _Slithering in the shadows, Iceman and Multiple, in their mutant uniform regalia, walk backwards with their eyes glued to the door of the ship to be sure that nobody will be coming towards them through it._

 _Then, as fate would have it, the two mutants' backs bump with three unexpected someones that are also sneaking their stealthy way out._

Chapter 31: Merrily to Hell

"Wha-"

A shriek rises from one throat, gasps from multiple, and a sort of question from the lips of the fifth. At that moment, Jamie realizes that secrecy and mission in complete silence now look like Swiss Cheese-full of holes. If the sound they just made didn't wake the dead, nothing will. He can swear it feels like the universe is shivering as much as he is, because the professor was in the hall and how on earth will he not hear this racket?

Jamie, Rogue, and Kurt are the lucky ones who escape without toppling, and Kurt pretty-much reacts the way any teleporting mutant would. He grabs what he thinks are his teammates and 'ports them to a place further away, hoping nobody realizes their absence and acts on the shriek, while also hoping he's got the right people, since Kitty gave him the threat about bringing Jamie.

About three seconds later, he realizes Kitty will just have to kill him, because he brought everyone, and one member of everyone just so happens to be Jamie.

Kitty realizes it at more or less the same moment.

"Kurt? Kurt! I told you not to tell anyone we were leaving!"

"Fraulein, I didn't know they vere here, or zat zey knew ve vere leaving!" Fright gives Kurt an even thicker German accent than usual.

"I thought you said you weren't going to rescue Mr. Williams!" Jamie pipes up, because Kitty is currently obviously suited up for a spectacularly stupid mission, and what more spectacularly stupid mission could there be than the rescue plan?

"We weren't!" Kitty yells back angrily.

"Kitty, that doesn't explain the suit, you know," Bobby points out reasonably.

"Yah know, yah should jus' come clean an' admit it. Ah knew they'd proba'ly come, an' if yah din't realize that, ya'll are bigger dummies than Ah thought."

Kitty rounds on her brunette friend with a sharp, "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, Ah thought it was obvious. We're not the only ones who wanna rescue Mr. Williams, an' Ah think it's logical for us to go together. 'Sides, yah'd tan my hide if I dared breathe a word 'bout our mission to the tyke an' Bobby-or anyone else."

Nobody hears, or at least pays attention to, Jamie's weak, "I'm not a tyke, I'm fifteen!"

Dead silence seems to rule as they suffer through five suspense-filled minutes, signals flashing between eyes with hidden messages spanning the distance between teams.

Rogue fills the silence with a sharp, "Jamie's a tyke, but he's been training wi't us for four years. He's trained-why not take him? Ah mean, what's not to like about unlimited attack forces?"

 _Nice, Rogue_ , Jamie thinks. _The one-man army. Actually, that has a nice ring to it. One-Man Army of Doom._

Somehow, some way, Kitty musters a protest.

"Jamie's fifteen, and the rest of us are, like, adults. It's bad enough that we're doing something this crazy, but he shouldn't go at all."

"But Kitty-"

"Jamie!" Rogue cuts him off. "Kitty, the world's comin' to an end an' we're arguin' over who to take on a mission. He's got every right to want to fight, and every right to make that decision for himself. In this world, nobody cares if we're fifteen or fifty, an' he'll jus' have to live with his decisions if he's wrong. Numbers are a plus, though, if we get into combat."

Kitty caves, because it's true. Nobody cares how old you are if you're a mutant anymore. They didn't care at all when Jean turned into the Phoenix, and now they seem to somehow care less, if possible. The reports of several mutant babies being poisoned from the water supply drifts to mind, and she recalls the blatant glee the newspapers reported it with.

"Fine."

Only Kurt has protests now, and he blurts them out. "Maybe he's got a right, but ve'll be okay vis smaller numbers, and I don't vant him to get hurt. Please, Jamie, reconsider?"

"No. He's my teacher as much as he was yours, and I'm gonna help no matter what you say." Jamie doesn't care that he's openly defiant. He knows what he wants and he's going to get it. Kurt starts to fight back, but Jamie continues, "I get that you're guilty, Kurt, but you honestly thought Mr. Williams betrayed us. I know what we're stepping into, and you do too, so we'll be able to have each other's backs. If I die, it's my fault, not yours."

Kurt's reluctance may be here to stay, but there's nothing that can be done about it, and he just has to deal with Jamie's decision.

…

Kurt teleports them to the next location, though he's conserving some energy for a fight. Teleporting four individuals, along with himself, is a little winding, since he hasn't slept recently. Still, it's a success, and they arrive early. They settle under a few trees, the dead of night covering them in shadows.

Jamie stirs restlessly, annoyed by the fact that they've stopped, waiting for Nightcrawler to go on. He maintains contact with Rogue for fear Kurt will try to leave without him. Bobby paces, ice coating the ground beneath his feet.

"Marie?" Jamie zeros in on her, she being the most lenient individual about his coming. "Why aren't we continuing? Do you guys know where Mr. Williams is?"

"Look, Jamie, you should ask Kurt. He's got the details first-hand." Rogue responds.

Jamie doesn't have to ask Kurt. The blue mutant starts without being told to.

"I vent to a store last night, and met a friend of Mr. Villiam's. He said he vanted to arrange a rescue party, and I decided it vas advantageous to do so. He calls himself Amorpho, and said zat a few friends vould be vis him. Zey should be here soon."

"Oh." And with that, Jamie stops paying attention to them, instead allowing himself to fantasize about these friends. He feels a fair amount of certainty that they are mutants, and decides that the leader, Amorpho, might be a shapeshifter. It's a dumb name, but Magneto just added an "o" to his power, so it wasn't much of a stretch to think this guy added an "a" and "o" to his.

Mystique was way better about choosing a name. If she learns that they left, there'll be hell to pay.

"…So, what did this Amorpho look like?" Bobby enquires, curious.

"Red eyes, trench coat, top hat, and cane. Ozer zan zat, I didn't see anysing. He had zis vibe, like run, but not quite."

"'Kay."

More food for the imagination given, a terrifying image creeps in. Bobby can remember the moment in the corridor when Mr. Williams had been so angry at the student who called Lance a freak. A jolt of fear had shot up his spine, and his instincts told him he had to get away before he got hurt. He had resisted, and the feeling had faded.

Rogue thinks back to a moment she remembers vaguely, when she was looking through the books about the man god, Apocalypse. She remembers the term, "Haunting Aura," and the mention of all ectoplasmic entities having it. She dismisses the though. Ghosts don't exist, and they certainly aren't solid.

Impatience rules, and silence takes over. Kitty is anxious, but doesn't show it. Her permanent headache seems to have faded a little for now, and she decides not to tell them about her potential new ability. No skips have taken place today, so maybe it's her imagination.

Finally, from the shadows, a tall being creeps, and it takes no analysis to decide it's Amorpho. The "vibe" Kurt mentioned is strong, but not too much to handle.

"Hello, Krum and other random mutants I didn't invite!"

Bizarrely cheerful, the mutant proceeds to swish his way over to Kurt, who states, "Kurt, not Krum."

Said mutant ignores his annoyance and yells at volumes that make them wince, "Darwina, Techmum, Wolf, Mandy, they're here!"

On cue, four more mutants melt out of the jungle, an eerie glow making the mutants wonder why they weren't easy to see. For mutants, two are fairly unremarkable, and the other two are plain bizarre.

One is deep green, almost black, with white hair that seems to melt into his body, changing from the pale shade to the deep green of his skin. His skin seems to shift constantly with things that should be numbers, letters, and symbols, but which are illegible to even Kitty, the experienced programmer. He wears a dark coat, which bears an odd resemblance to a dress, with gloves and a cloak. Despite this, he presents a streamlined look, and seems to be constantly moving.

Another bears a strong resemblance to Hank, an anothromorphic, wolf-like being, long claws extended from its hands. Its eyes glow with violent green. Perhaps the best simile would be like Ranhe's middle form, but a little more bulky and black.

The most human in appearance is a female with brilliant white hair, vibrant green eyes, dark skin, and a sliver-and-black themed skintight suit. She somehow seems to remind them of their teacher, though they don't know why.

The only recognizable one, known from a glance through the sketchbook, is a tall female with blonde hair, blue clothes, green skin, and scarlet eyes, cat-pupiled. The green skin has small scales in different regions, especially close to a necklace she wears. The only elements missing are the thickly bejeweled crown and the dress. In place, the clothes are trousers and a blouse, which she seems uncomfortable in. Her posture is regal, queenly, and she bears herself with a pride befitting royalty.

"This is the crew you were talking about?" The white-haired woman asks, looking at them with an incredible lack of impressment. Her gaze is judging, sharp, focused.

"Yep, m' dear, all properly trained by pros." Amorpho smugly floats beside them, but talks to the glowing figures around them, which seem menacing. Jamie feels himself starting to hyperventilate slightly.

"Because we just aren't good enough, are we?" The woman snorts, rolling her eyes. "They are _so_ much more powerful than any of us. And cut the aura, 'Morpho. They'll either faint or pee their pants if you don't stop soon."

It's true enough, Jamie realizes, seeing the tell-tale spots in his vision. The others, too, seem to be breathing harder than they usually do.

 _Run, run runrunrunrunrunrunrun_

Amorpho sighs and the feeling is lessened to a barely noticeable notch. The need to escape decreases, though it remains settled firmly in Jamie's head.

"You take all the fun out," the man huffs childishly.

"I'm sure it's fun if he's about to run, thereby leaving us no way to rescue Sir Pha-Mr. Williams." The woman deadpans, before turning to them. "I am Lady Phantom, and these are my compatriots, Wulf," the furry beast, "Technus," the man with the numerals, "and Dorthea Princebane," the green woman, "You have already met Amorpho, unfortunately."

"I take offence to that!"

Jamie asks, suddenly worried, "All of you are glowing? How on earth are we supposed to rescue Mr. Williams with glowsticks? And what can you guys do?"

It's an agreed-upon question, common sense. Nobody wants a teammate who can't pull their own weight.

"Well…that might be a difficult thing to define. Intangibility, invisibility, flight, basic stuff, and some special things."

The young mutants stare blankly. No mutants they've met recently have three abilities. Two is rare enough, and the only exceptions to the rule were Lucas (who went insane), Jean (who went insane), and Apocalypse (who may have went insane). There does seem to be a pattern. Even Rogue, who sort-of had more than one ability, had a bout of Dissociative Personality Disorder.

If beings with this much power go insane, they'll be in trouble.

"Are y'all human?" Rogue asks. "Ah mean, y'all look like mutants, but y'all haven't got the pow'r a mutant's got." Jamie wonders how they could be anything but human.

"I, Technus, realize that you aren't as dumb as you appear!" the flashing being states. They try very hard not to be insulted. "We are not human! We are-" The being is hit with a rock that the white-haired woman tossed at him.

"He's got a superiority complex," she explains. "And yes, you are pretty smart. I'm not human or a mutant. None of us are. Well, I'm a little bit human. We're aliens, of sorts."

"Of sorts?" Kurt asks.

"It's the easiest way to explain things without getting into a theological and scientific debate. Essentially we come from another dimension. I would've brought reinforcements from some other human and myt-mutant societies, but they're busy. Potter should've been sent, but we couldn't contact him for help, since the Observants would've noticed. This whole thing's been spur-of-the-moment," she grumbles.

Bobby practically jumps at the opportunity to impute something into the conversation, no matter how unnerved he is by the aliens. "Aliens? Phh! Mutants I can understand, but aliens? Ha!"

Wulf interrupts, rumbling something in another language with English words interspersed.

"I assure you it's the truth. If you can't accept it, just believe we're mutants as you please. What can you do?"

Brought back to the topic at hand, Bobby produces an icy flower from his hand while changing to his solid ice form.

On his cue, Jamie triggers three duplicates and Kurt teleports a few feet. The aliens stare expectantly at Marie and Kitty.

Kitty proceeds to smugly walk through Kurt, making him yelp. Rogue does nothing until the demonstration is complete, saying, "Ah can absorb your abilities with physical contact. Your abilities, life-force, and memories."

They look shocked. It's quite understandable. She can employ the abilities of those whom she touches? It's like the ultimate power, unless you want to kiss somebody you actually like. Okay, so she had a crush on Gambit at one point and kissed him, but could you blame her? It was an awesome way to defeat him!

"How long afterwards can you use the abilities? Are they taken from the one who has them while you have them?" The beings ask, worried.

"Ah'm still working on recall, but Ah could call up a few powers now, an' Ah could get some of your powers if Ah needed them in the fight. Y'all would still have y'alls powers, but Ah'd get 'm, too."

"Ni iras nun?" The wolf-man grunts with a voice that matches his looks, deep, ragged, a little like Logan in the morning.

The man called Technus stated, "He's right. The more time we waste on sentimentality and explanations that could be given in flight, the less time we have to rescue Sir Phantom."

" _Technus_!" Dorthea rumbles, and they can swear her body seems to grow, and the need to run increases.

"If the humans are going to help rescue _Sir Phantom_ , they should at least know the name we refer to him by. I don't believe he would be upset if his secret were known amongst his students."

"Very well, I suppose. It does make sense, though I'd rather you let him make his own decisions."

With a frustrated sigh, the queenly woman suddenly shifts, like a ripple, and to every X-Man's surprise, the lithe, delicate woman glows brighter than ever, growing until she turns into an enormous blue reptile with great green horns and ears.

"I didn't see that one coming," Bobby comments in stunned awe, staring at the dragon in their midst. The woman hadn't looked as though she could win a fist-fight with a pillow, but now she appears capable of swallowing them at will.

"Mr. William's cousin rocks!" Jamie fist pumps with an eager grin and laugh, because this lady is a frikkin' dragon, of all mu-alien things. Nothing, absolutely no power, tops this one.

Jamie is so jealous.

"Get on with it, Jamie," Marie pushes him forwards to the others, who are boarding the dragon (which sounds incredibly odd). Jamie finds himself glad she doesn't seem to mind, because if she can blast fire he's roast if he doesn't do what she wants him to do.

As he boards and settles in beside Kitty, Lady Phantom interrupts their self-satisfaction with a comment, "Aren't we forgetting something?"

"No," the aliens and mutants reply through varying words.

"Can you do anything besides your mutant abilities? Without a great deal of skill, our entire plan will fall through."

The question is valid, and they wonder why they didn't mention anything else.

Rogue pipes up first. "Ah'm the best fighter wi'ou' my abilities, an' they make me a lot stronger in fightin', too. If yah need meh to get information, I'm your girl."

"I'm okay vis hand-to-hand combat, as vell, and knife-vork."

"I can hack stuff. Computer stuff, that is." Kitty states, almost raising her hand. The alien-mutants look a little interested. "…And I'm good at destroying machines-molecule disruption and stuff-if I phase through them."

The technological alien flinches a little, as though he doesn't like this idea, the idea of having her around. She can definitely see why.

Jamie and Bobby add their bits. Jamie's duplicates can duplicate, he can mentally communicate with them, but he doesn't have that many other skills, besides, like the others, fair martial arts abilities, though his are less based on blocking. Bobby can heal himself at remarkable rates, and while healing from a shattered cube is probably impossible for him, he might can still do it. He also mentions that, besides the expected freezing of things in a coat of ice, he can use his ice to break down molecules, making it easier to shatter things, and that he can create complex ice constructs.

…

As they fly, the plan is explained.

They are given a flashdrive, and the technologically talented alien absorbs into it. They are told what to do with it.

They are to locate the main computer system, or really any system with a port for the drive. Technus is too flashy, since his abilities don't allow him to suppress the numerals flashing across his body, so that's how they'll carry him with them. Another reason he apparently can't take himself there is that he gave up all the basic abilities for the sake of a technologically sound body, fluid with information, so no invisibility for him.

In fact, the whole reason he wasn't in the drive from the beginning is that they didn't want the mutants to freak out over not being able to see a compatriot. He can't sustain himself long without a system to run in.

Once they reach a good computer, they are to turn it on and plug the drive in. Technus will download into the system, giving them the advantage as the technology turns against the military base. He will use the weapons systems, including the sentinels, to take out the entire base, and send them out to other bases. The task should be easy to complete, though they must do it in silence. Kitty is to help him hack in-if she can keep up.

Only Technus himself grumbles from the drive, and only about the incredible lack of space in a flashdrive, too cramped, he says, for his highly technological makeup, and mumbles that he'll blame Dora and everyone else present if he gets a power downgrade for this.

Dora just snorts a fiery snort and keeps flying.

Amorpho will disguise himself as a guard. So long as nobody looks at his eyes, he should be safe. His eyes stay red when he shifts. He's the one who's supposed to keep an eye out for dangers, being an organizer more than a fighter, and so will stay at the perimeters until they succeed with a radio. He shows off, shifting into several of the people present, making them dizzy with the speed of his transformations.

Dora is another watcher, since she can't do much good as a dragon in a crowded space, and it's more exhausting for her to defeat anything in a human/alien midform.

Lady Phantom (who requests they call her Ellie) is in charge of the flash drive, since she is an alien, and is therefore apparently more qualified for the mission than anyone else. A small group will stay with Ellie in case they are discovered prematurely, and to prepare themselves to fight when Technus takes over. This team is Team Alpha, and consists of Kitty, a Jamie, Technus, Ellie, and Rogue. A little brush of her finger allows Rogue to borrow Kurt's teleportation to help them escape once they get finished.

The real Jamie, Kurt, Bobby, and Wulf form Team Beta, which will head for the lower area of the compound, locate Mr. Williams and the other mutants, and leave. There is a brief verbal spar over Kurt coming with this team, since they feel he might do more good guarding Ellie, but Kurt is determined to be there for his teacher. Kitty is supposed to go with this team. Team Alpha with teleport to Team Beta once the hacking is complete, taking the teams into a place they call the Zone. The Infinite Realms.

They arrive in the dead of night. It's almost four in the morning and everyone's nerves are tingling with excitement and fear as they move into position. It's best if they get this done before sunrise, when the skeleton crew at the base will be refurnished with wide awake members, of which there will inevitably be many.

…

Kitty scratches at an itchy spot on her lower leg. _I wish this would hurry up,_ she thinks. _Pity there aren't any telepaths on our crew. If we need to talk, all we've got are these walkie-talkies, and that'll give away our position like a dog barking!_

 _Deep breaths, Kitty-cat._

Marie rests her hand on Kitty's shoulder, a gesture meant to be reassuring, but which only makes the butterflies flutter harder, caged inside her stomach. Still, her exasperation with being relegated to Team Beta makes her move a little ahead of the group. She doesn't like the feeling that the aliens think she's useless. It isn't her fault her power is common to them!

A metal fence looms above them, steel wires coiled with barbs, the first barrier to their passage. With another breath, wishing she could follow Jamie's example, that of brash confidence, she studies the fence. She reaches for a phasing partner, Kurt, since not all of them are capable of it. With her eyes closed, half-prepared for something to happen to her, she slides through the fencing. The aliens ant their phasing partners confidently fade, a sign of their own lack of tangibility, and attempt to drift through the fence.

Dora, having changed to her more humanoid form once more, tries to go through, but ends up in a crouch, electricity coursing through her body as she moans. Kitty has to phase the aliens through for fear they'll be incapacitated. Dora seems a little weaker, turning a paler green than before, but slowly regaining her color.

[Dorthea attempts to slide through the fence first, phasing gently, with Jamie holding on tight. The tingling which spreads through his body is a bizzare mix of seasick and sleeping limbs, and he recognizes that Kitty's phasing feels way better. They step into the fence, and Jamie can feel every muscle in his body go ridged at once, trembling. He cannot scream-the electricity prevents it. He can smell a sizzling something, and a moment later they are phased through.

Kitty bends over them with a worried expression, and asks if he's alright. Badly jolted, he cannot muster a response, and leaves the alien to answer.

"We've got to keep going. It matters not. I feel well enough to continue," the DragonQueen insists in a whisper.

They pause for a few moments to allow her to recover, as they realize the first thing has gone wrong.

With a glance to Lady Phantom, Dorthea gestures to the fence. A quiet understanding and dread passes through the aliens, and the humans know that something is wrong.

Faintly, Marie hears a soft whisper with enhanced senses from too many Wolverine absorptions. "It's been ghost-proofed."

She dismisses it into the depths of her mind. Ghosts don't exist.

Raspy, the woman murmurs, "Katherine?"

Kitty hates that name, but responds, nonetheless. "Yes, ma'am?"

"These fences…they negate our phasing, but left you unharmed."

Kitty nods. As the flash drive is passed to her from Ellie, she realizes the burden has shifted. It is now her responsibility to make the rescue a success. She is no longer on Team Beta.

With a soft nod, they continue, Dorthea left behind to keep an eye on the outer walls of the compound, a walkie-talkie in a death-grip in her left hand.

This mission now rests entirely on her abilities. If she can't-it doesn't bear thinking about. She can't fail, no matter what. They've got a good team, and as much as she doesn't trust them, the enemy of her enemy is her friend, or in this case, the people with the same goal serve as allies.

A long hike across rugged terrain, half-expecting an ambush of some sort, is grueling, and every crackling leaf is a cause for alarm. The aliens turn everyone invisible seamlessly.

Walking is awkward when one can't see one's feet, but Kitty adjusts quickly, unlike the others. She is used to feeling numb when she phases only one part of her body, and this is only a slight difference. She can still hear Bobby stumbling by the time she's walking smooth as a river's current. She's almost certain he wishes he could just use ice to get himself to the base, but it would leave a trail.

Finally, the cement walls of the military base loom menacingly above them, bleak in the pale light of the sliver of waning moon. A few doors are barely visible, outline blurred by the same drab grey. Slowly, carefully, Kitty phases them into the building.

They meet their first human quickly, and Amorpho abruptly does something they don't expect from the playful trickster. He ruthlessly attempts to phase his hand through the man, and when it doesn't work, the man about to yell for help, he instead bats the man across the room with a forceful slap, sending him crumbling into a wall. A moment later, the helmet is removed and the man is dead, brain disrupted with a jolt of electricity from the Lady Phantom. The shapeshifter changes into the man, Herman Johnston, easily, and they leave him behind, the X-Students shocked by the brutality employed.

 _It's a little sickening_ , Kitty thinks, _what these people are capable of for the sake of fulfilling a goal. Logan might approve of these tactics, but it's disgusting, even if it's necessary._

Jamie looks a little green, and Bobby watches the beings with a wary gaze. Kurt seems to barely notice the death, too focused on his personal mission, trying to get rid of the guilt of having essentially given his teacher up to the base.

The shapeshifter takes a map from the man's pocket, studying it, giving them a glimpse of the schematics for the system. The main part of the base, the part they are most interested in, is deep underground. The computers they need to get to are a floor down, at the center of the building. They leave Amorpho to scout the area and Kitty phases the body into the wall to avoid detection **.**

As they continue, narrow corridors passing by, they watch for cameras, and work hard to avoid them. It's relatively easy, Kitty taking Bobby and Kurt, and the aliens turning the others intangible, and they wind their way further and further. Suddenly, she spots more guards, and they have to turn invisible. It seems the aliens' abilities only work in the base if they aren't trying to phase through the walls. Ellie tests this theory while she takes two more guards at random, stealing their maps but leaving them alive.

They are at the next floor down and the teams split, Beta continuing decent, and Alpha finding and winding its way towards the center of the maze.

…

Team Alpha arrives at what they think is the main computer. It seems to take long and potentially deadly minutes to find a port, and they plug the USB drive into the port. As Kitty struggles to help Technus crack the code, turning the computer switches on which he orders her to turn on, playing with the various dials, they encounter the second problem.

From the computer issues a voice and alarm.

 **visitors.:**

They almost scream as the alarm begins to blare loudly, signaling the end of trying to get this done quietly. Technus starts using more password combinations, and Kitty struggles to keep the computer from shutting them out, which lasts for only a few more tries. Red lights begin to flash. Soldiers pour in from all sides, leaving no visible, simple way of escape.

They are determined to stay to aide in the rescue of their teacher and friend, and Ellie yells, "Get as far as you can, Technus!"

They can only hope for nobody to discover the drive and remove it. Kitty phases in and out, using her ability to the utmost, until she is suddenly disoriented by a flash, and she's back almost three seconds as an operative brings his gun up and fires. She moves, ducking and rolling towards him, before hitting him with what she's got. In the tiny room, it's almost a slaughterhouse for the men.

A Jamie-duplicate multiplies rapidly, protecting his teammates with sheer numbers, taking guns from victims and shooting the men who try to kill them. The guns pelt the computer, and they can only hope Technus gets through.

As Rogue turns to prevent herself from getting shot by one person, she is taken off guard by an electrified taser and collapses, unable to move further, leaden numbness taking over her body.

…

The military men are taking over, and Jamie can't deny things look bad. Less than five minutes ago he felt the last of his upstairs duplicates die.

He doesn't have time to wonder what went wrong, merely time to act.

Jamie has ten duplicates out at all times now, and four of this batch have already been shot. He feels the phantom aches from the memories of their deaths, but keeps fighting, ignoring the exhaustion beginning to seep through due to his use of power.

Duplicate, kick, duck, block, shoot, and one down!

Soon, though, the men realize who is producing the extras, and start shooting at him. He manages to dodge, surrounding himself in a meat shield of new hims, more going down every second. The duplicates, however, suddenly attack outwards, and he mixes himself with them. They target a lone duplicate, and when he puffs away after being shot, they realize they've been played. Jamie hopes Technus somehow got through in time.

At first, the fight seemed to be going well, but now there was no way to escape. They are fighting until they can be extracted by Kurt, or perhaps Rogue.

Kurt is suddenly fighting more men, Jamie sees, using his teleportation to take out several at once. As Though he barely has time to register it before more men are attacking, he still hears a scream and spares a glance behind himself, seeing a sight he was once sure he'd never see. Kurt has teleported two men into a wall, where they hang, still living, writhing as blood spurts from their mouths.

Kurt tries to teleport away, carrying Bobby, but cannot even reach the icemaker through the blood-spattered madness. An electrified bullet shoots through the air, and Jamie knows the effects it has as the confidant, in-control Iceman cries out, melting where he stands, before nothing is left save a puddle, still crackling. Somewhere in the back of his head, Jamie notes to stay well away from the water, and wonders how he feels no horror at his friend's death.

Wulf is making a portal, claws rifting a hole through the dimensional fabric, when a sudden rain of bullets of a special type impact the alien. The bullets hit the animalistic alien, and a screech of pain, like that of a rabbit being killed by the hounds, rises shrill above the cries of soldiers as Jamie turns another gun on them, spraying them with deadly results. Acid-green blood spouts from the being. While it didn't hit a deadly spot for a human, the bullet has pierced Wulf's core, and his form begins to break down immediately.

Kurt has suspended yet more men in a gruesome mockery of trophy hangings from the red-painted walls, and Jamie screams for help. As Kurt teleports over, Jamie realizes it was a mistake to call, with almost thirty guns now aimed at him. The moment Kurt has arrived, a rain of bullets hits, blasting through the blue mutant's body. A moment later, it topples over, bleeding out, Kurt's face permanently etched with the painful shock of death. His eyes are already blank.

The cries of hastily conjured duplicates, cut down by bullets, are the sounds of the reason for Jamie's survival as he is buried by their fading bodies, some dying, his own blood pouring over his body. Jamie manages a scream as the bodily fluids drip into his stunned mouth, but can no longer run or escape as one of his last-living duplicates stumbles into the electrical field cast by the bullets which downed Bobby and the current ripples through his body, frying the nerves and leaving him unconscious in their wake.

 **Bye-bye, Kurt. It was nice knowing you...So much for unharmed, perfect escapes! So, my dear readers, how do you like it? Remember, reviews feed my muse!**

 **26 days until summer camp!**

 **I was planning on getting this out on Friday, but details got in the way. Details and schedules. However, I think I can promise an update within two weeks this time, on about the 28** **th** **. Or sooner, maybe! Anyway, I have one deleted scene for you.**

 **This would have happened in this chapter, but in the end, it just didn't make sense. It went just after the introductions.**

 _Before anyone else can get a word out, Jamie blurts out, "Are you married to Mr. Wil-Phantom?" to the named Lady Phantom, because it doesn't take a genius to figure out what she was going to say. They've already seen the name, and it confuses them as to why the beings avoid it. A few seconds pass before a light bout of laughter begins amongst the beings, most strongly from the mouth of the Phantom. Jamie realizes what a stupid question it is abruptly, knowing that their teacher would have surely mentioned a wife before now._

 _"_ _O-oh, no, kid! M-most definitely not!" she giggles, before her speech is completely forbidden once more by the strength of the hilarity she is under the hold of. Finally, she gets out, "We're relatives, cousins. We wound up with the same alternate last name. Never have I been accused of being his w-wife before!"_

 **And a poem by my coauthor:**

 _Naughty, naughty little kiddies going out to plaaaaaay,  
and in the merry night their insides came out to say heeeey.  
Naughty little mutants going out tonight,  
naughty little mutants going out to die._

 **I couldn't resist putting it up…**

 **-MiaulinK**


	33. Caged

**I own nothing! Buuttt…**

 **I still also own this particular story! And my darling coauthor, light of mine eyes (well, more like the salvation of all of you) has deigned me with descriptions far beyond reproach! And I'll still remind you her name is Chicaalterego! Because I'm sure you can't remember that…that was sarcasm. I'm responsible for the reprehensible errors you find in this one, since I was the last to go through it, so feel free to blame me. But all praise for this story for the most recent chapters applies for both of us, and doubly so for her for the majorly-written-by-her chapters!**

 _The cries of hastily conjured duplicates, cut down by bullets, are the sounds of the reason for Jamie's survival as he is buried by their fading bodies, some dying, his own blood pouring over his body. Jamie manages a scream as the bodily fluids drip into his stunned mouth, but can no longer run or escape as one of his last-living duplicates stumbles into the electrical field cast by the bullets which downed Bobby and the current ripples through his body, frying the nerves and leaving him unconscious in their wake._

Chapter 32: Caged

 _It had all gone wrong. The fight was not what it should have been, and the pain, the loss, was simply beyond what he had expected. Then, he had passed out, not knowing if he would ever wake up again, but then..._

Cement

Cold metal

Cloth

Jamie feels awakens, a very much alive body thrumming dimly with pain. He opens his eyes a bit, the fog of sleep heavy within them, and, even though the memories don't trickle back right away, a part of him tells him he should be afraid of what he'll see. But closing his eyes again doesn't protect him from the world around him-his senses work harder to analyze detail: the harshness of the floor, the electric hum in the air, the smell of both antiseptic and blood. But above all, he realizes he's definitely alive, though a wash of guilt makes him unsure whether he wants to be.

He lets out a whimper of sound as he moves, he attempts to curl into fetal position out of instinct, but the friction of his arm on the floor sends a jolt of pain. It burns so much...

"Jamie?" The soft, worried voice of Marie reaches his ears, and he opens his eyes anew and forces himself to focus. The illumination leaves a lot to be desired, as the room is dark, and has no light bulbs. His vision would have been completely obscured if not for the horizontal bars of blue light, not unlike rooted lightsabers. But such light is enough to see his friend sitting on the same cell he is in. She looks ghastly pale and sick, face bruised and eyes haunted; a bowl with a lid sits a few feet away from her along with a pile of blankets that look paper thin. She is wrapped in one of them, shivering, but he doubts it's entirely because the cold in the room. And, as Jamie crawls closer, he picks up a faint scent of vomit on her. She is a wreck. But, Jamie figures, he must look like one too.

"Where is everyone else?" Jamie asks, the memories of the last day not quite having caught up yet. Still, he is certain he knows the answer.

"Ah-Ah don't know."

"What happened?" Jamie asks, Rogue hesitates and it sends red flags to him. "Tell me!"

She begins softly, "A-after we separated, Ah went on ahead with Team Alpha." Yes, they had been separated. Jamie in team Beta, cleaning the path for the second part of the plan, while Rogue and Kitty and a few others moved on... "We got to the main computer," she continues, "and Kitty plugged the drive in. The computer knew we weren't su-supposed to be there, and the soldiers came in when the lights were flashing and Ah don't know what happened to the rest but Kitty's not in the cells so maybe she escaped but-"

Jamie scoots over and hugs her as she trembles violently, grateful for the blanket that, if anything, serves to protect his skin of touching hers. Her head presses against his shoulder carefully and, soon enough, her tears dampen his clothes. Grief comes pouring out of him as well as the horror catches up with him. They silently seek comfort from each other and cling for dear life. Jamie needs to know more of what went on on her side. She doesn't continue.

It's not until their limbs no longer have the strength to clutch each other, until the shivering is almost gone and the tears have run dry that Marie moves away slightly, "Jamie, Ah need to know what happened to you."

The words bring horrible memories to the forefront of Jamie's mind.

 _Armed men surround team beta. They split, they dodge, and, at first only Mr. William's alien friends aim to kill. The Wolf man is the first one to score a kill, the sight of a stunning baton send him into a berserker rage and, before you could say "Oh shit," he grabs the man and pulling his arms apart with an animalistic growl; armless and broken, the soldiers falls to the floor and Wulf charges ahead, claw ripping necks and painting the white metal walls of the lower facility a crimson shade._

 _Jamie hears Bobby curse and make a shield to protect them, and Kurt is popping away from the danger and trying to knock out the soldiers without harming them too much. Jamie is all over the place but his duplicates get killed over and over and the backlash of their memories drives Jamie's brain to realize that their pacifist approach (the one the X-Men are going for) is not the right one. They are at war, and every person they knock down is one who could come after their necks later._

 _Then, a gun rolls near Jamie's feet and he doesn't hesitate, he plunges and picks it up. He fires, and his many lessons in self-defense make themselves useful as his aim is true and a soldier's skull shatters like a china cup, splattering the contents across the room._

 _His actions go unnoticed in the chaos, but not for long. That was the first shot of many. He points, he fires, another soldier goes down. He listens to Bobby curse again and the air turns colder, Bobby shouts something, but Jamie doesn't understand the words, and doesn't see what he is seeing from where Jamie is standing. Jamie has no idea what happened._

 _Now, all the men fighting their recently-met alien are free to chase after them._

 _It gets so much worse then._

 _They are not surrounded in the classical sense, but they slowly pushed back against a wall, too widely spread. Bobby freezes the floor, some trip, and friendly fire takes out one of the soldiers as a gun fires when a young recruit trips with his hand on the trigger. Bobby builds a wall of thick wall of ice then, which would have bought them enough time for Kurt to take at least him away if not for a well-aimed shot, not at them, but at a thick pipe near Bobby's icy walls. The distraction of fizzling hot water, scented with a pungent chemical of some sort, melts most of the ice and strikes Bobby's face, leaves him open for the electrically-charged bullet that ends his life._

 _Jamie is frozen with terror then. The gun in his right hand, the same one he had used to kill so many, goes limp with shock. He cannot move, can no longer fight. He is just standing there like a statue as the soldiers raise their guns towards the big, gaping hole in the ice wall, as an inhuman screech from the alien flutters and fades._

 _"Jamie!" Kurt screams and teleports in front of him. The wet, squelching sounds of bullets meeting flesh reaches Jamie's ears and he can see the light in Kurt's eyes fade as a bloody gurgle-_

"Jamie, JAMIE!" Marie's frantic voice pulls him back into the present, into reality. He gulps deeply and stares down to his hands, dry blood stains his digits, his sleeves, his chest. Dried blood, Kurt's blood, the blood that flowed from his wounds as he toppled towards him with a body full of holes.

"No," Jamie clutches his head and starts to hyperventilate. Marie asks him to breath, wraps him in her blanket and pulls him in like a child waking up for a nightmare...only, this time there is no waking up and realize nothing bad really happened. Only a harsh reality. He tucks his legs close to his body, trying to scare away the cold dread in his limb.

"What happened, Jamie?"

"Can I not tell you now?"

"No! Ah-please, Jamie. Did... did anyone survive?"

The misery in her tone is acute, and Jamie forces himself to open his mouth and recount the events.

"N-no. They didn't. Kurt shot-was shot-he tried to save me, because I was too stupid to move, but the men shot him when... and it should have been me!" Marie makes a move to interrupt, but Jamie plows on. "They melted Bobby and Wulf died, too. I saw his blood just before Kurt was shot, it was green-just like an alien's, just like…like, and everyone else... I was so stupid! I shouldn't have come. Kurt might not be dead!"

"Shh, Jamie," Rogue murmurs, once again hugging him, rocking him back and forth while his panic snowballs.

He jerks loose. "Don't you see? I'm-I'm a murderer now. I killed so many people, everyone- even Kurt, Bobby, Wulf! I'm a monster, it's all my fault!"

"You're not a monster, Jamie. You did your best, and the soldiers killed our friends, not you, okay?"

But he doesn't let her words comfort him: she might not condemn him, but he has done so already. He is not in his right mind and he bolts, he needs to... do something. He stands up, but he stumbles with the blanket he is wrapped in, and his stumble take him straight into the electrical field. He blacks out sharply.

…

The next time Jamie wakes up, he doesn't bother opening his eyes for too long, let alone get up from the floor. What would be the point anyway? What difference would it make? He's deserves whatever happens to him now for killing Kurt, for killing the others. Nothing matters anymore.

He curls into a ball and, once more, his arm hurts so much he whimpers. The murmurs outside halt and a moment later so does the electric hum in the room. Suddenly, he is yanked up harshly and his eyes fly open, gazing into the eyes of a maleficent demon-no, human.

But can't humans be demons, too?

He screams as agonizing pain as he is manhandled by his very hurt arm. His body almost blacks out when gloved fingers dig into a wound, and he catches a satisfied little laugh before he is hauled to a metal table with so much force is a wonder Jamie doesn't duplicate because of the impact. Then elderly man in pristine white robes makes his way in. The scientist, whose warm brown eyes had been gazing upon the soldiers turn towards him, and the disgust in his face as he glances at Jamie is telling. The loathing is almost tangible, and Jamie finds himself spitting, "What, do I seem less-than-human to you, too?"

The doctor seems to not care, and just keeps looking at him. Like a butterfly under a pin, Jamie is unable to move, the soldiers strapping him down with metal clamps while he is too overwhelmed with the pain of his spine almost breaking to fight them. The scientist looks at a screen and mumbles, "54.68 kilograms. Average. Pulse, 56 BPM. Fit, for a human." He attaches a bag and pumps air into it. Jamie recognizes this test-blood pressure. The man murmurs a number and writes it down, before continuing.

More tests, some bizarre, some normal, are performed, including height (5'7") and BMI (18.9). A file is written out, and he is suddenly pumped full of various liquids from needles. He starts to itch all over, but the pain is not unbearable. The doctor notes various things Jamie cannot understand, then smears another liquid across his hand with a swab. Almost immediately, it burns, and Jamie can feel the world shifting around him.

"Fascinating. It does have a strong effect on you. I wonder why it doesn't affect-"

Another liquid gets smeared where the first one had gotten into contact with his skin, and the pain alleviates. Jamie wonders who it doesn't affect. They must be incredibly lucky.

By the time the tests are over Jamie is drained, hungry, nauseated and itchier than ever. He is hauled up from the table with the same tender care he had been smashed down to it, before getting dragged back by his bandaged arm, then tossed back into his cell. His arms are covered in red rashes and tiny boils. It looks like an allergic reaction. Were they testing him for allergies?

Marie, who might or might not have been in the cell when he was taken out, is also covered in hives. They exchange silent glances and curl up in the corner together, pulling the blankets over their faces and waiting for the misery to end.

Eventually, they slip into a drowsy half-awareness, though it is broken up by the arrival of a metal tray bearing food. The food is basic-a strange goop with bits of black and brown particles in a milky soup that looks like cloudy water mixed with sand. A small bit of bread, no more than the size of Jamie's two hands, accompanies. It smells of pollution and rotting bananas. They guess it makes sense for the scientist to keep give them food if they want them alive for experimentation. They barely touch it, as its flavor and smell makes starvation seem tempting.

Sounds echo from the other cells, sounds that will stay with Jamie to his dying day. Screams, pleas for mercy and the indifferent clip clop of boots, rend the air. The silences that follow are always the worst, because he knows, everyone knows, that those who are gone might never come back. The air seems even more haunted then, and he can imagine so many things happening to the other mutants, his kind. For the first time in his life Jamie feels himself agree with Magneto's ideals, and that frightens him.

It doesn't take too long for Jamie to lose heart. The hope he had held to was diming with each passing day. And it doesn't help when he overhears the soldier's casual talk about some mutants who killed themselves in their very own cells somehow.

Their friends, their teachers, won't come for them. They wouldn't rescue Mr. Williams, and the X-Men won't rescue them.

A thousand lifetimes pass by in instants of terror when the soldiers walk by their cells, threatening them. A blond one with a crooked nose, in particular, seems to find delight in terrorizing the younger ones in a nearby room, a bunch of huddled kids, marked as mutants even before their powers manifested. He spits at them sharply, amused by their jumps when he tosses the tray at their feet. He enjoys the state they are reduced to, even picking up the smallest crumbs within a few days, empty stomachs compelling them.

About twenty mutants are left in the cells after a few days, though when Jamie arrived, there were at least two times that, and only a few were of the original lot now remain. They still haven't seen Mr. Williams, or heard him. Or maybe they have and he was one of the ones that were too butchered to look human any longer. A woman lives in the next cell, and says they have it fairly good-for now. The first days are spent in basic testing for everything, on brain scans, on non-invasive procedures. They test chemical cocktails for usage in anti-mutant combat, and for subduing them. This cell is mostly for new ones, and for medical care.

Jamie gets a brain scan that day, and is shaved quite bald beforehand. Supposedly, it makes the scans easier to take, and more thorough... he doesn't believe it has other purpose than humiliate him.

The inhibitors that were implanted into his arm (and wasn't it good to finally know why it hurt so damn much?) is removed after a few days, when a guard punches Jamie and he multiplies involuntarily. They think the batteries had run unexpectedly early. The guard is angry, and Jamie can't fight back well in his half-starved state, so the duplicates are subdued quickly, and they force him to make one for analysis as they trade the implanted device for a chocking collar that was supposed to do pretty much the same. Jamie can feel the whispers of pain from the other him, and he feels a little smug satisfaction when he can still duplicate. He doesn't tell anybody except Marie, though. He lets them keep believing he's helpless.

Marie, it turns out, can also access her power, the device never even working on her in the first place. The guard growls deeply about "fucking dysfunctional neutralizers". They know it works on one of the prisoners, but it was designed for the most powerful mutant yet seen, so why don't they work on all of them?

Marie learns that the base is well-fortified, about the exact defenses, just from the brief contact upon a startled guard. She starts to spend time meditating, hoping to access Magneto's ferromagnetic capabilities or Berserker's electrical mutation, praying something works soon. It's their only hope of escape.

Jamie can do nothing since he doesn't have the fuel to make duplicates capable of fighting. He is restless, watching Rogue meditate makes him hopeful and disheartened at the same time. The white gowns they were provided after they rip when their original outfits start to stink the place up, give no warmth, more like a sack than anything. They grow dirty quickly, and they are provided more, if only to shut up the complaining guards.

The bucket in the corner, they find out very fast, is a toilet for the two to share. The guards take it out every day, but the smell stays. It's an embarrassing ordeal to use it, as they are bare to the eyes of the guards. They never look at Jamie when he does his business, but Marie isn't that lucky, so he stands in front of her to give her as much of a cover as he can. She appreciates it, he knows, but they simply pretend it doesn't happen.

The following days merge together. There were days when the guards don't come, and they spend the whole day fearing for nothing, but there are times they come twice. The feel unsafe every second, and they no longer fall simply sleep, they collapse from exhaustion. Other than that? Their days are dully repetitive, sleep, eat, sitting or experiments, eat, and sleep again. The schedule isn't broken for six cycles, until the day Marie comes back bald.

But it was the next day the most memorable of all.

...

"Haul it in. Got the bandages on right? Stitches? Collar?"

The shouts jolt Jamie from the monotony of watching Marie, a _bald_ Marie, meditate. Yesterday after she came back, she managed to tap a power for a moment. Today, another. A little bit of hope has risen. Two soldiers carry a wooden board, upon which lies a body, white-bandaged thickly. They cut the bars of their cell off, and shove the board into the room Jamie and Marie are, thumping the mutant's body carelessly onto the ground.

"Thomas, careful with this one. It's special for research!" a red-tag soldier shouts across the space as the thud resounds throughout the room. The RTs are the highest soldier rank here, and the white lapels (WLs) are the highest, period. Gormic is a WL.

"Why the hell should a freak matter to me? Do I look like a scientist?"

The RT rolls his eyes, "Because it's your job on the line, and the information Doctor Gormic gets from this one'll be enough to take down hundreds more of them, once he forces it to use its ability."

With a groan, the younger soldier leaves, clearly annoyed, leaving them alone with the mutant, dragging the board out with him.

The mutant is a mess, limp on the floor. The swaths of bandages seem to make him little more than a mummy, and Jamie's fears grow exponentially as he realizes this is how he'll look in a few weeks. The face is ashen, and green streaks slash through the skin, streaks which seem alive, pulsating sickly, producing a faint light of their own. He still has a thick nullifier about his neck.

The mutant wears nothing save the bandages and a blanket Marie quickly pulls over it. They cannot tell whether it's male or female, though. Within hours, blood is seeping through the bandaging, staining it silvery-red. The guards don't care, and let the blood drain. Why should it matter to them if it dies? They are left undisturbed.

Around midnight, Marie is woken by a soft croak, and she forces herself awake. Jamie hasn't slept much at all, and he stares at her with blank, shadowed eyes in perfect silence.

The mummy looks at them tiredly for a few seconds, until its eyes widen with shock. Recognition grimaces painfully across its face, and it manages another croak. Marie reaches for water they saved, carefully propping the person up, tilting him against Jamie as she trickles the life-giving liquid into his mouth. Within a few moments, the mutant responds, sucking at the cup until it runs dry.

They stare longingly at it for a little bit, but hide the glance when the streaked mutant stares at them.

"M-Marie? Jam-"

"Mr. Williams?" Jamie almost shouts his shock, stunned. This-this mutant, almost dead, is their teacher?

A weary smile flitters across their teacher's face, quickly departing as a spasm of pain shakes his frame. Deep, hacking coughs force their way through, and blood trickles out his mouth. The fit leaves him breathless.

"Y-you shouldn't have come here," the teacher whispers. "D-did an-nyone else c-come?"

The two exchange glances and start to lie, "No. Do you-"

"Don't lie, Jamie. I c-can r-read your expressions," he thinly sighs, slipping against Jamie's support as he tries to sit up. "Who else c-came?"

With a deep breath, Marie says, "Kurt, Bobby, and Kitty."

"You d-don't fool me. Who else?"

"Some friends of yours, Ellie, Wulf, Dothea, Technus, and Amorpho."

A ragged gasp escaped. "I should h-have known. A-are th-they still…alive?"

"I don't know," Marie murmurs. "We split up, and I couldn't keep track of everyone." She doesn't miss the pause before 'alive', and finds her mind clinging yet more to the strange coincidences. "Kurt, Bobby, and Wulf are dead, though."

Another twitch shivers though Mr. Williams, and the gleaming green ribbons fade a little. Another coughing fit seizes hold, and he collapses to the floor, Jamie unable to further support him. He seems to experience a seizure, though it subsides swiftly. His eyes seem to flare weakly to a broken green, before dimming to blue. He says nothing more, observing them steadily for a time, before falling asleep.

"Marie?" Jamie whispers, "I don't think we should tell him anything else. He doesn't look so good." actually their teacher is well beyond 'doesn't look so good'. In deep slumber, their teacher moans softly. Wisps of green energy drift from his body. Pools of green develop when some wisps redirect groundwards, but the ones which fall atop him flow off. Any which hit the neutralizer sizzle slightly and dissipate.

"Yeah. Ah wasn't thinking when Ah told him who died. Ah hope it doesn't hit him too hard."

Yeah, fat chance.

Marie shifts forward, wiping a droplet from his damp skin with her blanket. The streaks are almost liquid, a little syrupy. Mr. Williams subconsciously leans into her hand with a sigh, and his shudders ease. Jamie joins her drying him with his own blanket, helping clean some of the mess away, and Mr. Williams relaxes further. The dim stripes glow more brightly on contact, and they realize something about contact makes him better.

They wait for an unseen sunrise. They wait for something to happen. Eventually, Jamie curls up beside their teacher to give him warmth, wanting to do at least something for him after the man saved them all from the hell they were enduring now... not that they had appreciated it at the moment. Jamie attempts to keep vigil for his teacher, but his consciousness goes on and off. Marie is keeping her distance, not wanting to harm Mr. Williams by accident, but she does get close enough to tuck Mr. Williams in her own blanket (on top of his own) as a gesture of thanks.

Oddly, even when Mr. Williams is barely more than a bandaged corpse, having him by their side makes them feel a bit better.

At least he knows he wasn't abandoned by them.

…

Morning comes, and Mr. Williams wakens briefly, fighting to force food into his empty stomach, but hurling it all back. He once again falls asleep, and Jamie is taken for his first invasive procedure, a careful study of the anatomy of his clones in comparison with an extensive, scan of his own body. He is stripped down, forced to drink a disgustingly sugary concoction, then pretty much tortured to produce duplicate after duplicate until he feels something in him break. His body burns with their injuries, deep cuts, the scientists more careless given the knowledge that the real Jamie isn't being killed.

When Jamie returns to his cell, Marie is still there, restless, but once again meditating. Mr. Williams is propped up against a bar-free wall, watching, mostly immobile. Only his eyes and head move to greet Jamie, who stumbles in like a drunken ostrich, collapsing on the floor and refusing to get up.

"Okay?" he rasps.

"Yeah. Peachy." Jamie responds.

Another thin smile flitters across his face, and he sighs, "Why is M-Marie meditating?"

"She wants to access someone's powers to get out of here. She's been working on it for a while, and she's getting better. She got some more sparks from Ray, and she's hoping for some magnetism, too."

"That won't w-work," Mr. Williams mumbles.

"Why not?" A simmer of anger burns Jamie's voice, and he wonders if Mr. Williams ever tried to escape.

"No iron down here, no nickel, no c-cobalt. If they c-catch Magneto, th-they don't want t-to deal with that. All p-plastics and non-metals. Some upstairs, but n-not here. They f-figure he c-can't get things that far away. P-probably wrong, but I don't imagine she c-can manipulate so much."

"It will work. Something will."

"Something will." Mr. Williams confirms. Something in Jamie's gut warns him something's about to happen.

"Marie? Rogue?" he prods.

She exasperatedly slips out of meditation. "Mr. Williams, Ah'm trying to get us out. Ah need to concentrate."

"Your p-powers are operational, correct?"

"Yeah."

The thin smile widens. "I thought they would, th-the c-collars only appear to work on m-me. Th-the scientists are q-quite upset over that."

"You're the one they work on? Why?" Jamie blurts.

Mr. Williams closes his eyes for a moment, face wrinkled with worry and concentration, before he murmurs, "The c-collars were originally m-made to work on the Ph-Phoenix, and I strongly resemble its energy patterns. Th-they assumed s-such equipment would work on all m-mutants."

"You're like the Phoenix?" Marie stares.

Jamie adds, "Those friends, they were aliens. Is that why... are you an alien too? But it shouldn't since the Phoenix was-" he cuts himself off.

"Jean? I know. Her energy readings w-were not actually from her, b-but from another being inside her body. As c-creepy a-as that seems." They just sort of link. "But, y-yes, I am similar to my alien friends, but not f-fully alien."

"Oh."

"Is that why you look so terrible?" Jamie jokes.

Mr. Williams snorts, "Yes. The c-collar sucks my energy away, and p-prevents me from reg-gaining it. The g-green is p-part of my energy, and it's leaking out."

"But Jamie an' me touched you last night an' you looked better." Marie points out.

"Perhaps the c-contact is something it can't pr-prevent."

It sounds reasonable. Long minutes pass, and food is brought in. Mr. Williams barely touches the food, but he finally starts to talk again when Jamie asks, "Why didn't you tell us you were someone else?"

He jumps visibly, before stating, "How?...Never mind, I'm not. I u-used to be someone else, but I'm n-not him anymore."

"How can you not be yourself?" Rogue enquires.

"I am myself, but I'm n-not that self. I don't, please don't c-call me by any other name." He seems almost afraid, as though calling him 'Mr. Fenton' would hurt him physically.

"I won't, I'm just mad that you hid." Jamie states.

Mr. Williams makes eye contact briefly. "M-mother and father were scientists. Th-things d-didn't go over well, and I d-didn't want to use their n-name again."

They can fill in the missing lines easily. Found out. Experiments. Runs away. Hides. A nightmare every one of them has had, but which none of them have lived out, not like this.

They had suspected, of course, but hearing it from Mr. Williams' mouth is a different kind of monster.

"I'm n-not g-going to m-make it, you know," their teacher whispers, "I m-might n-not make it through the n-next experiment."

"You will!" Jamie insists strongly. "You've got to!"

"It d-doesn't work that w-way, Jamie. The collar is t-taking my l-life-force away, and it m-may not l-look like it, but I'm barely h-hanging on, and after breaking my obses- I know my dying now is not the worst that could happen."

His resignation is clear, but Jamie doesn't want to let him die, or even say he will. "Rogue'll get us out! She'll get someone's powers, and she'll get us out!"

Marie starts to say something, before she stops.

"Marie?" She nervously eyes their teacher.

"I c-can let you t-take my p-powers. It will be en-nough for y-you to escape," Mr. Williams rasps.

"No. It'll kill you."

"I'll die soon, anyway."

"Ah won't, not even if you beg me, not when you're on the brink of death, never!" She tries to hammer it into his head with repetition. She will not permit him to die. "There's some other way. We just need to think!"

Silence takes hold once more, stifling them. She resumes her meditation stance, and Jamie sighs, moving closer to the teacher.

 _'What're you planning?'_ Jamie wonders. His teacher's eyes are calculating, watchful. He stares at Marie with a gaze akin to sadness, before glancing at his hands, looking around the room.

Barely ten minutes pass, and Marie's breathing becomes easy, slow, soft, as though she's sleeping. Suddenly, their teacher rises. He shouldn't be able to, not with those wounds, but he does it regardless, shuddering with pain, almost toppling, but still up and stumbling towards Marie.

In that moment, time slows as Jamie recognizes the intent. Mr. Williams lunges forward, and Jamie yells, "Rogue!"

Not enough time is given, though she snaps awake abruptly, just in time to see him land next to her, roll until she's beneath him, and make contact. Almost immediately, he screams, pain sizzling through his veins with fire-hot agony. She struggles as hard as possible, attempting to punch him, but it fails, and his grip remains tight.

He is coughing, shaking, and suddenly the knuckle-white grip on her wrist is gone, weakened. His eyes roll back in his head and he sags to the side with a low moan.

Marie struggles upright, stunned, staring, before she doubles over and starts to vomit, shivers seizing her body, and her nose starts to bleed. Every part of her body burns, and a headache rages. She, too, loses consciousness as the night guard rushes towards them, yelling and barging in.

 **Hello! D'you like it? Please remember to leave a review! It was loads of fun, writing this conversation. For once, I'm not actually being sarcastic. Usually, I hate writing dialogue. It sort of gets awkward and sideways, and slides down the slope known as** _ **Bad Writing**_ **.**

 **12 days to summer camp! Also, on my DeviantArt account (MiaulinK), I posted an illustration for this chapter. If you look up MiaulinK on that website, the picture is the one called Rogue Meditation. I drew a bunch of other random art pieces that don't necessarily belong to this story, so don't worry, the suit redesign for DP isn't canon for this story. If you like, you can request pictures for the story, either on DA or here. I've also got a Tumblr that I don't really look on…Same name.**

 **A big thanks to** **Pencilfingers** **and** **Death of Snipers** **!**

 **DoS** **, I'm glad you pointed out the logic flaws! It makes things way more interesting. Trust me, there were some biggies in this one that got worked out. Now I'll have to remember to guard it against you! To think you nearly got the chance to tell…I didn't notice them until I'd read this twice. Life on the edge!**

 **PF** **, thanks again! We probably didn't catch all the clichés for this one (in fact, there are probably tons of them in this chapter alone), but we gave it a good shot for "no POV switches". At least in the sense of a switch which would skip from the cells to, say, the jet, or involve a visit from Magneto. Can't promise they'll all be that way, but I'll try to keep my inner omniscience and omnipresence (and whatever the other omni- was) at bay. Or at least away from the chapters here…**

 **I can't think of anything else to say, so have fun! I'll try to get out a chapter before or immediately following Camp.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	34. Limbo

**I own nothing! The little which stuns you with grandeur is in a good part my CA's work (Chicaalterego), because I wrote a chapter that didn't turn out well. As in it REALLY didn't turn out well. I don't think I could have pulled off a drugged scene nearly so well.**

 _Marie struggles upright, stunned, staring, before she doubles over and starts to vomit, shivers seizing her body, and her nose starts to bleed. Every part of her body burns, and a headache rages. She, too, loses consciousness as the night guard rushes towards them, yelling and barging in._

Chapter 33: Limbo

After the first week of being in the facility, if Jamie had thought he knew what it truly meant to be in hell... he had been wrong. But it's not the increase in the cruelty of the dehumanizing experiments which makes him truly understand, it's the loneliness. Until now, Marie had been at his side, sharing his pain, offering silent support and companionship. Her presence, even while they became shadows of their past selves, soothed a part of Jamie's soul that kept him from completely falling to pieces.

She's no longer there, and without her, his mind falls apart, the crumbling brickwork of a still-young house ill-made and worse treated.

She's not dead, of course, or at least, Jamie hopes she isn't. The again, maybe she is: nobody answers his questions about her whereabouts and her well-being. Maybe he should wish she were dead, but he can't.

He likes to think he would hear them mention if she had died. He needs to be certain whether she's alive or not. The uncertainty keeps his mind unable to do anything but wonder, and leaves him sleepless until late. He relives over and over the horrible moment in which their teacher last attempted to save them and had brought his own death upon his head. Mr. Williams had choked a scream as blood tainted silver gushed from his nostrils, ears and mouth, even a few small droplets on his skin and from his eyes like tears, pushed from a sponge. Jamie had been so horrified watching his teacher shudder violently and go panther-quiet, log-still, that he nearly missed Marie's convulsions for a few moments, going from terror to calm and finally began to seize up, vomiting, doubled over and starting to bleed as well.

The nightmares start coming to him even in his waking moments, ever reoccurring in ruthless accordance with his memories, more detailed than anything he consciously recalls. Even when he shakes one away another soon takes its place in a kaleidoscope of stomach-churning visions. He can now measure the passage of time by counting his sleeping nightmares. And the experiments... those are nightmares too. And, to be honest, he sometimes is unsure that his presence on the metallic table is happening at the moment or if he's re-living the experience.

Jamie's worst nightmare so far begins with a bandaged body falling, a scream and the flurried movements of guards taking away two familiar bodies as Jamie sits in a shell-shocked state, his own professor, Professor Xavier, seated in the background, impassive and uncaring.

And it has to be a nightmare, because it can't have happened, and he tries to believe that he hasn't been abandoned once more.

It's a dream-there is no possible way his teacher could have died.

Especially not as he sacrifices himself yet again for their freedom, a useless bid for the chained mutants lingering in this pit.

It's a nightmare. One he is unable to wake up from.

.

Jamie is sleep. The memory plays itself again, and he can predict every movement, but do nothing to stop it.

 _The rusty joints from his legs creak ominously. He stumbles, he crawls towards a writhing Marie. She is jerking uncontrollably, blood gushes and starts to turn her face crimson. The floor, once pristine, is showered by sweat and blood and a spray of vomit, more gastric juice than anything else. She's retching, and gurgling screams, spasming and trembling, body tearing itself apart for no visible reason, unhealthy pale skin glowing green and blue._

 _Jamie reaches for her hand. It's so very cold. He doesn't know when he gets close until he is gripping her. He feels as though his scrawny arms have gained the strength of adamantium, but it's only a desperate delusion: He won't let the guards take her! But as soon as he finishes his silent oath he is slapped away with an iron baton._

 _He's no longer hanging tight, his sight is swimming but he can hear with perfect clarity._

 _"Marie!"_

 _The pain seems to only increase as he struggles to get up. He cannot get up, but he bites back the bile in his stomach and he extends his hand towards the now distant soldiers that take away the only thing keeping him from crumbling. He no longer has the strength to raise his hand, let along remain upright; his head thumps soundly against the concrete, but he cannot give up. Won't give her up. So he digs deeper into his soul for a tiny bit of strength._

 _He finds none, but the despair makes him move forwards. He crawls through the vomit and blood on the floor, only to have the bars of the cell light up, trapping him inside. He whimpers, and flails; he is so tired. Tendrils of darkness wrap around his head, and he loses yet another battle as he passes out._

.

Brilliant beams of light greets Jamie as the next time he opens his eyes. _'Is it day?_ ' He has no idea, but he feels oddly happy at the moment. A flicker of a smile flutters through his thoughts, unable to exhibit them in any other way as he simply lays on his back.

Shouldn't Ororo or someone come in and tell him to get up, since breakfast won't wait forever on a lazy slugabed?

Or…the sentinels…they're supposed to be avoided, so he shouldn't remain still for too long, but oversleeping doesn't constitute a federal crime, does it? At least not yet? And it's not like one of his punches can send the sentinels swarming. The adults are paranoid. He's just fine.

"I don't want to go to school today," he grumbles and tries to pull a blanket over his eyes. There is none and he feels a bubbly laughter swelling in his chest. For some reason having his arms strapped to a bed that isn't his is the most hilarious thing ever. Not unlike falling off a skyscraper, the truth occurs to him in dark detailing, suddenly seared once more across his thoughts.

He giggles helplessly as the memories of horrors beyond that which any human should go through replay in his head. He should be horrified, eyes wide, searching, pupils dilated wildly with terror. He is not, Jamie feels as though the world is wonderfully sweet, as though it's made of pink cotton candy. Eyes fluttering open for a moment, the world spins in brilliant technicolor, shades of billions of colors he didn't know existed shifting and merging with billions of other colors.

Something seems to be missing.

He doesn't really care to think what.

He is picked up from the bed from warm arms and he feels his world moving, like floating in a boat that sails indoors from one room to another. He is tossed on the floor and his own pain makes him snicker. It's such a wonderful day, pain aside. Pain doesn't matter! He has new friends! Three mutants surround him and he smiles stupidly at their confused faces. He has no idea who they are, but they'll be great friends. Why not?

"You with us, kid?" He hears a female voice ask from somewhere. Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Is he going insane? The walls are talking! He's heard the voice before (but not from the wall). It belongs to... someone? A woman that was there before them... before them, before they, before... before what?

"Kid... Jamie," the woman asks anew. She is talking to him, he thinks, since he's pretty sure he's Jamie. And Jamie is a funny name, so he laughs, and the laugh makes him cough. Who named him that? Coughing has never been funny, not when it causes his chest to ache so much, but it's hysterical now, especially since his parents called him that. Do they know what it rhymes with?

"He's been drugged pretty bad," Jamie hears someone reply, and he feels bad for the poor sod who's been drugged: being drugged is _not_ a good thing, everyone knows that. And to miss out on such a wonderful day seems like a waste.

"At least he seems happy," a gruff voice Jamie cannot recognize mumbles and he smiles. Yeah, happy. Happy is good, everyone should be happy.

He closes his eyes and sleeps happily for the first time in... who knows anymore?

...

Jamie feels like shit. Like he had mortally offended the hangover fairy and it had filled his nostrils and eyes with pixie dust before running him over with the Batmobile. He isn't making any sense, he can tell, but he doesn't care in the slightest.

"Marie," he whispers as though her name is a mantra.

"She's alive." Jamie hears, and he bolts upright. Which is a bad move. Any abrupt move while feeling like shit is… "Urgh. What the- Oh, fuck." He notices he is not only feeling like shit, but well and truly shitted. And yet, the news he's obtained just makes the embarrassing issue a moot point.

"She's alive?" He asks hopefully.

"She is," the blond mutant woman from two cells away confirms. Ashley, he remembers her name, and feels as though it isn't the first time listening to her voice in over a week: she isn't a big talker; but, then again, what mutant in this place is?

"I heard some guards talkin' about her when they was taking me to the lab beside de ICU. The brunette's on life support; she's a great source of tissues or somethin'. I heard about de guy dat looks like a mummy, too. He's on life support, but they don't care so much about him. Apparently he's getting too weak, anyway. A couple of last experiments and they'll toss him into de bins."

Jamie opens his mouth to ask if she knows anything else, but the feedback from one of his clones hits him full force. They've been keeping the clone tied and... happy? Drugged, he figures. He's been under some narcotic not too long ago, but doesn't remember any of it except the colors that still tease his vision at the corners.

Getting the memories of a clone smiling with a gaping hole in his torso, surrounded by maddened scientists cutting him like a fish, is a new level of creepy. Jamie shivers. There is something he has forgotten. That's probably for the best.

That the clone's memories shouldn't have taken so long to reach him doesn't even register with him. He has always been aware of what every of his clones is doing and feeling, but the link isn't working properly anymore. They probably broke something in him, or maybe it was that he is too weak to hear the voices of his other selves anymore... nothing but the last moments, at the very least. But, then again, the last moments of his clones have always been the most potent and vivid.

Jamie shakes his head and manages to ask what he wants to know most of all: "Is there anything else you can tell me about them? You've been here for a while, maybe you know of a way for me to see them?"

"Nope! Not unless you get just-about killed," she replies.

"Worry about yourself." someone pips into the conversation. A newcomer. Jamie can tell by the way the kid in the cell huddles into himself. Jamie is surprised to see one so young in here; then again, it's old news that the sick people that ran the lab had discovered a way to identify kids with a dormant X-gene and trigger it with electicity and radioactive waves. If it kills the child, they don't give a fuck, either.

"What?" Jamie asks. The kid was somber and his words bitter. Jamie feels indignant that some brat dares to speak about him and Marie in such a way.

"I don't know how long you've been here but I have seen enough... I...I don't think there will be any of us left soon."

The gruff voice of a man who had been brought in a few days after Jamie and Marie were, scoffed, "Probably a good time to start thinking about religion, yeah?".

Conversation dies in the room right then.

...

A few days later, he shivers in the thin gown, freezing. Jamie guesses it must be night because of the temperature drop.

"I'm n-not g-going to m-make it, you know. I m-might n-not make it through the n-next experiment," Jamie mumbles, repeating softly his teacher's words. He's reached his limit. He's been trapped in this limbo of non-life and non-death for too long. Surely Marie will forgive him if he dies before her. He can't wait for her any longer, and he cannot keep going on the off chance she returns alive.

Carefully, he manipulates himself into an upright position, body aching from the icy concrete. He wants to die on his own terms. He wants to at least get the small triumph of denying the scientists their last experiment on a living him. He eyes the bar greedily. That should show them. He reaches for the bars and-

He blinks. He isn't in his cell. He's now in the ICU. Did he even reach the bars before they took him here? He probably didn't.

This room doesn't have electrified bars, only regular metal ones. That would probably be an issue for regular mutants, but, as Ashley had told him once, the scientists only took mutants on the verge of dying here, and only the really useful ones. The others they shot.

From a bed he cannot stand up from or sit up on, Jamie watches the central area of the ICU with straining eyes, where five bodies lie prone on metal tables. All of them are hooked up to dozens of machines to the point that he can barely see anything of them. Only Mr. Williams is immediately distinguishable because of the green stains on his bandages. The rest look like mummies as well, as did their teacher the first time he arrived. He cannot tell which one is Marie.

She might not even be one of them.

He stays awake for a while, but the liquid being pumped into his veins forces him back into deep oblivion.

...

When Jamie next awakens, he feels the grip of death a little less firm around him. He isn't happy about that. He doesn't want to go back, doesn't want to keep going, he wants to get out of this hellish limbo, and there's only one way out.

Jamie's weakened senses barely register the bizarre crashing sound taking place outside the ICU door.

 **Yep, the next update is out! Like it? Not so much? Please tell me! How many of you noticed the tiny mention of Harry Potter two chapters ago, during the mission? This part is basically mostly filler, because the story needs a transition between last chapter and the next chapter.**

 **Kinda took a while to finish, and YES, there is a perfectly valid explanation. A-trouble working on it (death in my CA's family), B-Final exam week. I'm taking four final exams, and part 1 of the first one was last week. This week, today I completed two, and on Wednesday, I'll be taking two more. And failing. Probably.**

 **And to** **Guest** **: I promise it isn't all death and gloom and doom and despair. In fact, it was only at first that I had trouble with the ending and how to get there, since I hadn't plotted completely. Since then, with a great deal of help from my coauthor, it's been plotted to a T. Next chapter more or less marks the end of "Part One" if all goes well, and from there, Part Two will be more "tight" in terms of plot, since we know where we're going.**

 **Anyway, I've got this idea for a potential graphic novel (a prequel for Hidden Phantom, Danny age 21). It may not actually happen, but I have a sketch up on my DeviantArt account (MiaulinK) for a potential costume change. It isn't the greenly-swirled one. If you want to propose an OC, you can. Here's the roles I need:**

 **4 Main Characters (other than Danny)-spirits or ghosts, not halfas-I might make a poll for names I like a lot and post character sketches for a while. If I do start the graphic novel, there will be some sketching beforehand, and I'll probably put up some small pages by the end of August. I may also make a little trailer for it, so we'll see how that goes…**

 **-MiaulinK**


	35. Away

**Hi there everyone, I'm Chicaalterego. This chapter took forever because I took more than two weeks on top of the time my fabulous co-writer (and official owner of this AU) took to write the original piece. I was handled a 3.9K piece that was quite messy, and I gave her back a 7.8K chapter that was less messy but had some awkward scenes (not good awkward, more like odd to read). She worked on it, fixed the awkwardness and sent me to me again for approval...we agreed it was awesome. Gotta love teamwork.**

Chapter 33: Away

Battles, true battles, those where your life dangles from a thread, are very different than any training, no matter how ruthless. Time slows down, and that which happens in mere moments feels more like a thousand lifetimes. Then, if you manage to get out of it alive, you are a different person, a hollower one, who has tossed aside to die a piece of themselves so they can run that little bit faster and become a little bit more ruthless.

Then after you are safe and sound, when you have stopped long enough for the nightmares to catch up...then time seems to sped up in a blur, as though to make up for lost time.

Or so Kitty feels.

During their mission, the military base's computer system had somehow realized it was being attacked and set off thousands of alarms, alerting the military to their presence.

The alarms had sounded and all went straight to hell afterwards.

She had barely escaped, to be honest. She had been numb and cold, the moment of victory shattering into a horrifying sense of defeat that left her in stunned shock until a slap to the face brought her back.

 _(flashback)_

 _"We need to go!" The white haired alien, Ellie, shook her shoulders._

 _An explosion had followed when the alien girl started pulling Kitty from the chair, and Ellie had jumped forwards, forming a green shield that held back a shower of bullets for two seconds before it fell, her green blood spreading like a glowing carpet, and Kitty felt brief pain pierce her chest, and saw a single bullet fly for her forehead._

 _Kitty had blinked then and she was still sitting on the chair, unharmed, and Ellie was moving to reach Kitty's arm. Kitty jumped forwards, pulling Ellie's arm before the explosion could take place and turned the both of them intangible, the ambers of fire and the biting iron of the bullets flying harmlessly through them._

 _"We need to find the others!" Kitty had yelled. Ellie's eyes hardened and she nodded in agreement. Safe from harm in the intangibility Kitty covered her with, Ellie had begun shooting green beam after green beam, killing the men in their path as they pushed forwards._

 _But there were so many. Kitty had known she wouldn't be able to keep the two of them intangible for long enough to pass through the endless throngs of soldiers. So she had stopped, hiding herself in place as Ellie attacked with everything she had. It barely took the woman a couple of minutes, but it had felt like hours, and the rivers of blood on the floor were so high they seemed near to drowning the two warriors._

 _Then, it had been Ellie's turn to fly the two of them intangibly beyond the corpse camp, delicately avoiding potential bombs, Kitty trembling with an adrenaline high. For a moment, at the end of the corridor, Ellie set her down, tying a temporary bandage of ripped uniform about a wound Kitty hadn't even known she had._

 _But they had needed to keep moving. They needed to find the others. Then they would get out. Kitty had been sure she could get them out, even with the confusing malfunction of powers she ought to fully control._

 _Then again, maybe she wouldn't need to phase much. Kurt had surely popped away a few of them, maybe all of them, so this trip would be pointless and redundant, but she had to make sure. No, she had_ needed _to be sure. A whisper in her heart told her everyone was still entrapped in the base._

 _Ellie had lifted her once more and they had flown, faster and faster, and turned left at an intersection. They had soon noticed soldiers in front of them, but the attack came from the soldiers standing behind. They had been ambushed. Ellie turned them intangible, but it didn't work. A bullet hit Ellie in the chest and she had seemed to explode like a water balloon filled with green paint. No clearly human member was splattered, as though all the bones in her body, her hair and even clothes, had turned into green goo at the explosion. Kitty was covered in alien blood. It entered one of her eyes when a soldier kicked the stuff towards her. It burnt. The hand of the soldier clamped on her trembling arm, the man touched the communicator device in his ear and smiled before opening his mouth to speak-_

 _Kitty was floating while Ellie carried her. They were about to fly through an intersection. Kitty dug her nails in Ellie's arm and the white haired woman turned. "Fly up!" Kitty commanded, and Ellie didn't hesitate. Kitty turned intangible, they phased through the ceiling. They avoided an ambush and certain death, but were suddenly on the roof of the compound, the stars over their heads and the fresh air a clear sign that they were further away from their friends than they were before._

 _"We aren't going to make it like this." Ellie had declared._

 _"We have to! My friends-"_

 _"Your friends are probably dead by now." Ellie's words had cut Kitty like a knife._

 _"NO!" Kitty was about to turn intangible, but was knocked out a second before she could manage._

…

Going back inside would have accomplished nothing but getting her killed. Still, Kitty resents Ellie. She resents her nearly as much as she hates the soldiers in that base. Kitty would have rather died fighting for her friends than be the only one alive. The survivor's guilt might have killed her if she had run away to save her skin. In a way, she had, even unwillingly. But Kitty decides to hate Ellie from the moment the brunette opens her eyes to see the familiar metal ceiling of the hanger. She hates the woman even more when she learns that the two of them are the only ones to come back.

But life moves on in a busy blur, and crisis brings to them the most unlikely of allies: Magneto and his Acolytes. Along the familiar old enemies there are so many other mutants, ragged, famished and hastily patched up. While the X-Men had been running to safety and hiding, Magneto had been gathering mutants all over the country, to keep them safe, to unite them under a single banner of hatred towards humanity.

The men look at them as though they were cowards that could have done something to help the mutants. Kitty can't help but agree in her much-bittered heart. She hates humanity , irrationally, as a whole. The wounds are too fresh for her to stop and rationalize that there are many humans that hold no blame in the matter, humans that have done nothing even remotely related to her, who had done nothing to stop the horrors brought over them: useless, just as she is.

Kitty wants to cry. For a moment, she wonders what would have been of them if she had followed Magneto from the start. She would have been able to prepare better, to make sure she trained for war and to keep her friends safe, ignoring the little voice in her head that points out that if she had been an Acolyte she wouldn't have been friends with any of them.

So, when the unlikely partnership between X-Men and Magneto was announced by the Professor, who sat in his wheel chair beside his old friend and enemy with incredible presence and authority, Kitty doesn't protest. In fact, nobody does. Maybe the news of what happened to Kurt, Marie, Bobby and Jamie makes them agree to let bygones be bygones, or maybe it's because they had been the only ones beside Scott to step forwards and protest on something the professor had decided they would do.

…

The days pass. Ellie's presence in Magneto's base, where everyone has moved, is ignored by most. There are no fingers pointed at her for being different from them. Kitty had never told them about her being an alien, and the woman herself kept quiet about not being a mutant. Ellie looks so... normal-black hair and blue eyes where white and green had been, and no glow around her, no feeling of danger. Her semblance with Mr. Williams is such that they could have been twins.

Even though she has yet to tell anyone what her powers are, or if she even has any, though Kitty knows she does, her obvious relation to their old teacher and the fact that the woman had tried to assist them in the rescue of the man had guaranteed her a stay among the X-Men.

The only person noticeably uncomfortable with Ellie being on the base is Kitty, who refuses to speak with her, even when it's obvious the woman wants to tell her something.

One evening, though, Ellie corners her in the kitchen on one of the many nights Kitty wakes up from nightmares and goes for a glass of water, and launches straight into the words she's longed to tell the young mutant.

" _I'm_ going to talk to you, and _you_ are going to listen. We went to a very dangerous place where the odds were not in our favor because we wanted to rescue Danny, or Daniel, or Mr. Williams, or whatever you want to call him. I didn't force you to go, I didn't force any of you. You _should_ have known the risk as we did. We went well prepared to die and fail because Danny meant so much to us."

Kitty winces. She doesn't want to deal with this, but Ellie grabs her by the shoulders and plows on. "You went there, you thought that you were ready for it, ready to face the consequences, but you weren't. So you wailed, _we_ failed. And now you're acting as though the world denied you the success you were so sure you would get. Because the good guys are supposed to win all the time, because you have been lucky so far and you don't know defeat...Well, guess what? The good people can loose and the bad win. That's the real world for you, deal with it." Ellie breaths raggedly and her formerly blue eyes glow green. "I don't regret going, and given the chance I would go again, for Danny."

"But they-"

"And my friends wouldn't have regretted it either, no matter the outcome. But you? You clearly regret it, because you weren't ready, because you were too naive and arrogant to think a happy ending was the only possible ending."

" _I lost my friends!"_ Kitty screams back. "I lost Marie, Jamie, Bobby and Kurt! They died for nothing, they died because _you_ prevented me from going back to them. This is all your fault!" Kitty breaks down sobbing, falling against Ellie as her knees fail her, and she punches the woman like a child throwing a tantrum.

Ellie doesn't indulge her, stepping back and letting Kitty fall to the floor before a second punch can hit her chest. "How can you even _think_ of surviving a war when you break down after a few loses? That's what you're in now, a war. And now you have two options: you toughen up or you die. There will be no one fighting _your_ fights for you. And I tell you this: I won't stay until the end, because this is not my war. I will stay along until I can confirm if Danny is dead, and I will bring him back, either breathing or as a corpse."

"If you don't care about us, why are you staying behind?" Kitty asks, her resentment for the woman reaching a new high.

"Because you are strong: I might need you to go back and rescue Danny. And you need me because I'm strong too, because you see how well the two of us work. Together we stand a chance. Not alone. And as you have been mopping and lurking, things are moving forwards, things you are too blind to see now. It's been two weeks since our last attack, and Magneto and his men finally managed to make your X-Men understand that they need to get off their asses if they want to accomplish anything."

"You mean..." It can't be.

"A few people, myself included, are going back to the base, which you would know if you didn't get out from every room I enter as though I carried the plague."

Kitty doesn't want to hope, but hope she does. One of her friends may still be alive, and if even the slightest chance exists, she wants to go back for them. She will walk to hell for them. If anyone is going, then she's going to be with them.

"When?" Kitty asks, resolve lighting the spark that had died in her eyes.

"A few days from now." Kitty nods. This is it. Her last chance to save her friends. "But remember, girl, every battle you walk into is a battle you might get out with less than you walked in with, even in victory."

There is no need for Ellie to tell her that. Kitty has learnt so the hard way.

Now it's time to plan. Come tomorrow they'll be a step closer to the future, whatever that future might be.

…

It takes longer than Kitty would have liked to put things in motion, but by the time to strike, they were ready for anything that might be thrown at them. They have the troops, the weapons and a means of transportation even more deadly than a dragon alien. The Quinjet, named in honor of its five blazingly effective jet engines, which make it move through the sky more swiftly than any other plane Kitty has ever heard of.

The plane travels through the sky, invisible even to the most advanced of scanners, so it is a matter of fact that they arrive safely at their destiny. The invisibility is all thanks to Forge's last minute-modifications, and said modifications are the very reason it took them as long to part as it had to leave.

The calm and smooth ride does nothing to keep those on board from being high-stung with nerves. Even Magneto, with his overwhelming presence, stands surrounded by several floating metal balls that can become a weapon or a shield in less than a blink. But the ride isn't to last forever, and a signal from an Acolyte she has yet to learn the name of is her cue to phase through the floor with the unit she would be leading.

To think she would ever lead a unit of Magneto's men-if she had been told she would a month ago, she would have laughed, but now she was a logical choice: she knows the place they will be going to, and the revelation of her precognitive powers are something too useful in the heat of battle _not_ to take advantage of. So, despite her previous failures and her lack of experience as a leader, she is in charge. The fact that Ellie, now white-haired and glowing, is in her fighting unit, floating them all down since they weigh less than a feather, does little to calm Kitty's nerves despite their familiarity with one another.

Kitty looks around the unknown faces in her group. The Acolytes keep on increasing in number since the alliance, and the eight she takes are about a fourth of those she left on board. Magneto will be taking a unit, as will Mystique, and lastly Logan, who leads the only party of just X-Men. Each of them has a different starting point for the attack, so neither group needs to face the whole force the military, which should split as a matter of fact. The Professor, from the relative safety of the plane, will help guide them along while the few men in his company would command the ship and help him keep an eye on all that will be happening in the line of fire.

So, as the plane flies away invisibly to a second location, Kitty looks towards the base beyond the very same fence she had gone through before walking into hell, a feat that had placed her in team Alpha, carrying the flashdrive alien, Technus.

She pulls herself back into the present as Blink gives her a little poke, mercifully drawing her thoughts away from the past. Kitty hasn't slept much for over two weeks, even less since she knew there would be another trip to the base. She had been so restless for their mission to begin, and unwilling to cope with the nightmares of bubbling green blood steaming on the cement floor, eating at the weaker substances in acidic gurgles. Blink's green eyes remind her of the blood.

Kitty manages a wan smile, false in all its grimacing plasticity. Blink draws her hand around the girl's pale hand, offering a small squeeze. Blink knows pain well, as do most mutants.

Suited in tight kevlar, hopefully enough to protect against bullets, Kitty studies the people she is in charge of with more detail. She only knows two out of the eight: the Scarlet Witch, an unstable teenager who had been made to forget her past actions so she would have some measure of control and her brother, Quicksilver, the white-haired speedster who had caused Kitty and her friends so much trouble in high school. He had been very vocal in his disagreement with his placement, but neither of the two siblings had been able to go against the will of their father and leader.

...

The soldiers in the base are snapped out of their routine when the alarms sound all over the base. The attack come from multiple fronts, so many people are killed before they even thought to grouping. Kitty, despite her background with the more peace-loving group of mutants, now understands that those who they spared today would be foes to fight again tomorrow, and offers no mercy. It's time to be hard as diamond and sharp as the killing blade.

Magneto is the one who causes the most destruction: while he cannot control the bullets fired towards him, his abilities allow him to deflect them and tear the soldiers who dare to fire at him apart.

Mystique, enraged by the possibility of the death of her children, fights with ferocity unmatched by most of the others, viciously taking pleasure in the pain of the soldiers who dare to threaten her family. Lance, also known as Avalanche, shakes the ground and makes the soldiers trip while Mystique and a few other mutants (though mostly Mystique) take the opportunity to give death blows to the human army. His control improved since his adolescence, the earth is caused to swallow several.

Then there is Kitty's group, advancing on fast feet. Ellie fights in equal glory with the Crimson Witch and blows up the weapons embedded in the walls while Pietro takes away the weapons from the soldiers, soldiers that would be easily offed by the mutants in the group. So far, Kitty's only use is to send out a couple of warnings that are taken care of by Ellie and Pietro.

The deaths in the mutant side of things, this time around, don't count for Kitty's team, and she conquers, grateful for precognescience. In Mystique's and Logan's groups, though, there are some killed when the soldiers overwhelm them in number. In Magneto's group, though, even fewer die, most those whom he considered needless in the beginning.

Victory is imminent.

…

A lone soldier in the outpost watches the monitors relaying the state of the base. The soldiers fall like flies exposed to toxic fumes, and the mutants destroy millions of dollars' worth of equipment. The mutants murder hundreds of true patriots. The soldier cannot, will not allow them victory. His hands move to a big red button protected by a glass cage. He needs only to press it and the vents of the cells where mutants are will close, then deadly venom will be released into the air and kill every abomination they had caught.

A soft *meow* comes from the soldier's left. The soldier looks to the tiny kitten that looked at him with innocent, wide, red eyes. The man blinks in confusion. "What's a cat doing here?" The man asks to nobody in particular. An albino kitten, perhaps? Before the man can fully process what he sees, the claws of a tiger pierce his heart. The man barely manages a bubble of blood before the life leaves his eyes.

The tiger turns into a humanoid figure wearing a trench coat, red glasses and a hat. "My, my, took them long enough to come back. So rude of Mandy and Kitten to leave me behind. Oh, well," Amorpho uses his cane to push the dead soldier off the chair and sits down. A few taps on the keyboard later and the electric bars of the prison cells are gone.

Amorpho smiles to himself. Now he has established himself as an ally to the mutants. He had been unable to escape from the base, but too good at blending in to get caught. Amorpho had been out there when the alarms went off and turned into a fly, finding a safe spot to hide while the pandemonium was unleashed. He had taken advantage of the chaos to sabotage the sensors on the base so he could remain unharmed at the end of it all. Prioritizing his safety above anything else, he had stayed put as Krum and Robby were killed, and even after Rooney and the red-head girl were taken prisoners. Amorpho had waited for the opportune moment.

While Amorpho isn't a fighter, he is familiar with war. He knows a lost battle, and he recognized the moment the ships turned in the favor of the enemy. He knew better than to try a one-man freedom fight, and so allowed the prisoners to continue rotting away in their cells, no offence to Billy intended. Amorpho liked Billy, but not enough to die for him.

So the ghost without a face sits down and types a bit, then gives the impression of smiling as he tips his hat towards the monitor "What do you say we get out of here, Techmum?"

"It's Technus, you idiot!" A face on the monitor growled.

"Stop dilly-dallying so much," Amorpho smiles "But before we go, let's give our friend Mandy a bit of help, shall we?"

…

The mutant factions had wiped out the resistance by the time they converged outside the labs. What had been a winning battle became an even more unmatched slaughter as every weapon built in the base stopped attacking the mutants, who so far had dealt with them with little trouble, and started attacking the soldiers.

The nasal laughter coming from the speakers made Ellie smile in understanding, though nobody else had any idea what was going on. But it was clear to her at least that, while the rushed attempt to hack the super-computer was a massive failure, near three weeks of hacking into the machine had been more than enough time for The Master of Technology to gain control of it.

She had almost felt guilty for leaving Technus behind, but his attack allows her to remember why she likes the mad IT man.

…

The first group to reach the labs is Logan's group. The scientist there wear gas masks, waiting for the acrid gas they had been told would come in case of a takeover. It never comes. But even if it had, they would stand no chance of escape, and they quickly fall to the fury of the mutant teams.

They take most of the scientists out by the time Magneto's team arrives and the Acolyte leader waves his hand and metal pieces fragment from his huge accumulation of spheres, turning into sharp spikes that pierce the scientists' brains before they can scream.

Logan grimaces and the X-Men flinch, but no one objects. Logan has told them no mercy can be given, and they are far too splattered in the blood of their opponents to see a point in objecting. Only the suddenness of the gesture startles them, the method of death relatively painless. Kitty's and Mystique's groups arrive. Most of the mutants stay behind, but the two team leaders and Ellie move forwards, searching for the cells.

The doors open and the smell of blood, feces, and decay spread through the air with great speed. Inside the basement are cells, the bars deactivated but the mutants inside too afraid to move a step out.

" _Where are my children?_ " Mystique growls, but there are no responses. Only lost eyes and broken souls watching, some recoiling even further into the darkness. She prowls on. She can't find either of them and punches a wall. "They're not here."

"If they're not here, they're either dead or in the ICU," a woman with curly black hair speaks, her trembling finger pointing towards a massive door. "To the lab, past the shelves, third door to the right."

Mystique spins towards the doorway and leaves.

A moment of silence prevails, and Magneto speaks. "Search for survivors. We are taking them back."

Kitty searches for familiar faces among the survivors, but finds none, so she turns and enters the labs as others assist mutants from the cells and Hank performs quick patchwork on the more-severely-injured mutants. It frightens her to think that _anyone_ could be worse than the people in the cells, who are still living. She almost fears finding them alive more than getting definite proof that her friends are dead.

The labs beyond the shelves are something straight out of a horror movie, even more so than the cells; Kitty stares at the laboratory with horror: puddles of fresh blood stain tables and floors, and dried blood is settled in hundreds of crevices, clotted eternally in the cracks of metal tiles. A tinge of metallic blood-scent lingers in the air, finding its way into her mouth. A mutant lies curled tightly on the floor, not breathing. Dead, her mind supplies.

She wishes she weren't present to see these things.

There are mutants, supine and still, on tables, hooked to tens of machines, barely breathing. Some sport gaping holes with knifes on nearby trays, yanked roughly out as scientists fled. The teams had arrived while some mutants were undergoing experiments and the scientists had left them as they were. Many had bled out before the teams had arrived in the labs.

They reach the third door. It isn't as bad as her imagination, but just barely. The place is clean and the air smells somewhat less foul than the cells, and there are no corpses. She cannot recognize anyone strapped to the beds because the bandages the mutants are wrapped in barely let them glimpse skin. Somehow, these are worse than those mutants mid-experiment. Magneto enters behind her and uses his iron to ply the cuffs loose, opening them.

She starts to lose hope when, finally, they hear a breathy gasp from one of the hooked-up mutants. "You?"

Kitty whips around. The voice is unfamiliar, too raspy to be healthy, but the source, a small, bald boy, a teenager, looks straight at her.

It seems almost an age before her mind even manages to recall where she has seen those eyes. She sinks to her knees, stunned and silenced. This…cannot be Jamie, so weak, pale, barely propped upright on a single arm, trembling with exhaustion. Deep purple bruise-like marks surround his dim, glassy eyes. Of all the people present in what looks like an ICU, he seems the most aware.

Ororo rushes forward, unlocking the few restraints, most of which are loose already. He almost tumbles into her arms, too weakened to prevent it. Shivers ripple through his body of both cold and heat and he moans softly. A fevered flush pinks his cheeks with unnatural highlights, and his gaze wanders.

"Shh, Jamie, we're here," she murmurs softly.

Sharply, he strains away from her, pulling loose, landing on the ground with a jarring thud, crying out. A struggle ensues, his arms shaking as he tries to wrench himself off the ground, unable to lift himself. He slips onto his back, miserable whimpers of pain escaping. After a moment, he whispers, "Marie's over there," he points to a mummy whom Mystique stands near, "an' so's Mr. W-w-w-illiamss…" His words slur together to near unintelligibleness, but they understand the meaning. Kitty forces herself to her feet, already hating her moment of weakness.

She checks other mutants, needing to make sure there is no Bobby or Kurt under wraps as well.

They are not there.

When Mystique moves towards them, carrying Marie, Kitty gets a better look at her friend: Marie is bald, too, and no hair has grown back. Specks of green highlight her features in glowing light, and her hand twitches slightly from time to time. For an instant, her lips shape a word hazily, and her eyelids crack open.

Mr. Williams, who is now been carried by Ellie herself, looks even worse, his visible skin sickly blue-green in varying shades, a collar chaffing his raw neck. He shows no signs of consciousness and bubbles of green fluid leak from his mouth with every breath, as though his lungs are torn.

Samuel comes to help Mystique carry Marie, but the woman refuses to allow him. He nods and picks up a random body. Two more mutants are needed to pick up the shells in the ICU beds-there are only six survivors in there. Finally, with all the mutants accounted for, they leave, Ororo handing Jamie to another team member, using her weather abilities to lift another severely injured mutant in worse condition than him.

Kitty watches a younger mutant, the only one with no prior ties to any of them. It's a child who has clearly not even reached double digits. The injuries are minimal, scrapes and rashes, but she picks it up, half for her own sake. She feels tears pricking her eyes.

Why?

Why did this have to happen to them?

She breaks down. She weeps, a hand on her shoulder make her look for comfort from its owner. She clenches to purple fabric and Kevlar. She doesn't even care that she cries into Magneto's chest.

...

Victory has never tasted so bitter for many of the present. They have with them less than 20 half-dead mutants out of thousands that had entered the base as prisoners. So many pointless deaths, from such horrors that one only needed to see survivors to imagine it.

Humans were the enemies now, no matter how much some of them wanted to deny it.

"Billy-boy looks horrible!"

Many mutants jump as a faceless man in a trench coat pops into view in front of them.

"Amorpho!" Kitty yells, feeling happy surprise and a pang of betrayal. "You...how?"

"Well, you see-"

Suddenly, strange lights play across the horizon. The forest around the compound becomes quiet and unnaturally still. Something is out there.

Blink, sensing the danger, forms a magenta portal to, most likely, their plane and ushers everyone inside, hurrying them. The interior of her portal resembles a panorama of outer space, but Kitty can give little thought to this. They hadn't planned to use Blink's powers to get away since it was clear that the people in the army would have something to prevent the power of mutant teleporters of all kinds, and once they were out they were supposed to have been picked up by the plane.

The mutants nearest her portal enter quickly, some of the team members preceding them to check for potential danger, with relative order, but their peaceful exit is interrupted by the appearance of huge sentinels less than a thousand feet distant and they panic, fleeing even more speedily into the portal, half-trampling each other in their need to escape. Within moments, all the mutants and ghosts pound onto the forest floor near the plane, and Blink closes the portal before any sentinels can come through.

No true escape can be had. For a moment, deceptive peace reigns supreme. The lights on the horizon, lights which they had hoped were some invention of Forge's, are gone for but a few instants and the mutants have just enough time to see the plane, no longer invisible, mangled beyond repair, broken and strewn across the forest floor.

"Professor!" Samuel cries out, and Blink instantly acts, preparing another portal with a "plip" sound, a portal to a new, unknown location. Some of the other mutants turn towards it, waiting to run through the portal at the slightest sign of the enemy. A moment later, a brilliant beam of white light blasts the ground at the portal's base, killing the nearest bystanders, ripping a hole through the forest and dirt, and knocking Magneto to the ground, unconscious. Anyone not within the blast zone scrambles back, and unified terror vocalizes from many throats. The previously somewhat-hidden sentinels no longer blend with the environment and issue from the woods in loud unison.

The tables turn harshly, and the teams are at the mercy of their enemies.

Reacting instinctively, the teams group around the survivors of the blast, defending the weaker and more injured mutants as much as they can, though some are scattered away from the group from the shock of being fired upon, and some lie helpless on the ground outside the circle.

The sentinels attack, trapping the group further, as a pale figure regains consciousness, rejected by death, struggling to release himself from Ellie's tight arms. The female halfa almost drops him. Now is not a good time for him to regain consciousness, and since they were almost last through the portal, the able-bodied fighters having been in the front, she had been forced to fly away from the deadly beam, away from the safety of the group, making the moment even worse.

She struggles to calm him, but to no avail, as his previously limp hands dart to his neck, clawing at the heavy collar.

A weak whisper gurgles past his lips. "L-let me go. I n-need to fight."

She curses his thrice-damned obsession. It figures it would force him to awaken now, of all times. He could perform all sorts of heroics if he weren't on the brink of death, with her full support, but in this state, she fears for his life. "I can't let you," she whisper-yells.

He turns bloodshot eyes on her, dim, tired, and she can barely hear his next words: "d-die anyway…obsession…if y-you block me…won't make it. Better chance…collar off…"

"Danny," she begs softly, hoping to make him reconsider. She knows he tells the truth, but maybe he can resist a broken obsession. Each way lies near-certain death, but his eyes don't yield. She breaks beneath his determination and sets him on the floor as she spreads a shield and forces a third arm from her body, praying no shots strike before he can be loosened from the collar, fingers, struggling to tear it away. Softly, she half-jokes, half-threatens, "If you dare die, I'll personally kill your spirit, so you'd better not even think about it. The collar fails, a brief crackle of controlled electricity forcing its malfunction, allowing her to utilize her full ghostly strength to snap it apart.

…

In the crush of bodies that make it through Blink's portal, Jamie falls, an explosion of pain burning inside his chest. The screams as massive sentinels emerge from the woods somehow feel disconnected, as though they don't fit together, and he watches with the perspective of a movie-goer: feeling that he is only watching things happen to actors onscreen.

The blasts of white light tearing the ground apart send bone-rattling tremors through the soil, and the ground beneath their feet breaks apart as though the world itself is deconstructing. Flashes of crimson light burn through the sky as Wanda tries to fend them off before another blast, dangerously close to her feet, sends her stumbling. Jamie sees the face of the mutant who carries him fall dead with a perfectly round hole in his forehead, no blood rushing out, as though the blast had cauterized the wound as it was made.

A blade of grass pokes Jamie in the eye, and he distantly come to the realization he had been dropped and many of the mutants who had been pushing each other to get away now lie dead around him. He notes that he seems to be the only conscious one, but can see a few others who show signs of life. He finds himself unprotected, incapable of rising, and with high odds of dying where he lays, and somehow the thought fails to fill him with terror.

As he looks on, a glimmer of green shows itself in the dark, settled on the ground. Oh…is that Mr. Williams? He cannot see very well, but that shade of green is something that he heavily associates with his former teacher.

A second flutter of light forms above him, shielding him as Ellie darts forward, preventing him from being blasted to pieces, before picking him up and carrying him to the group where the living mutants stand, expanding the shield and setting Jamie on the ground. Distantly, he wonders where she got a third arm…or all the others she uses to carry or drag three other mutants with.

Jamie's foggy eyes flitter to a nearby moving sentinel, and the sound of a man speaking reaches him. He understands vaguely that the man, with a voice he thinks he recognizes, is trying to recapture them, though full comprehension evades him. Jamie wants to warn his friends, but cannot seem to open his mouth.

Then, a burning cold fills the air, like liquid nitrogen.

Energy seems to thrum through the air with no apparent source, until a blue, glowing figure rises from the ground, and murmurs echoing words that seem imbued with anger.

 _"I will not allow you to harm them."_

The brilliant figure, his truest form revealed, wavers nearly fifteen feet above them, ice exploding from his body, shattering across the ground and spreading in white and blue sheets, the glow inescapable, searing their eyes with light that seems only slightly duller than a star. The trees crackle in a fresh burden of ice, and a rattling explosion tears a pine tree apart. A tiny layer of frost chills everyone's skin, scorching, even through Ellie's shield, which protects them from the worst of the flying ice, though not from the cold and the creeping ground ice. The sentinels themselves fare no better, suddenly weighted down by hundreds of pounds of ice and groan in sudden strain. Dread, fear, and anger, directed outwards in an uncontrolled Haunting Aura, briefly freezing the wills of those who remain nearby for long moments, before the feeling shifts slightly.

The screams of the terrified once-prisoners freeze in midair, cold shock closing mouths and stilling frosted vocal cords. A cold silence, broken only by falling tree limbs, stays for mere moments, before dread sweeps outwards from the slightly translucent alien twenty feet away. Snakes of pure white tear away from him and seem to shine brighter than a hundred suns, dazzling the mutants yet more. Many cover their eyes or squint. Even the sentinels don't act, too caked with ice.

A blast of light finally comes from a single sentinel, first-freed from its icy burden, but it bounces, instead, off a pale shield of light, flickering in the cold air. Somehow, even in that moment, they feel safe, protected, warm, even through the fierce anger radiating as easily as the light itself. The anger is not directed at them, and the dread that shoots adrenaline through their bodies comes out of instinct, not true fear.

A gust of wind whirls around the figure, and a few tendrils of red light snake into the aura, tearing the ground at his feet apart, groping the air with hungry tentacles, longing for more to destroy. The sound of a hundred souls-no a thousand, tears from its throat, pure sadness and anger, a mourning keen, oppressive and terrifying. This is the wail of a _bean chaointe_ , the Irish mourning spirit, torn by loss. The cry at first seems weak, almost a whisper, but as the glow expands, radiating especially from the figure's torso, the wail becomes oppressive, and the trees crackle and tear apart, shattering under the sound. Most of the mutants cover their ears, the sound piercing even the best defenses, audible for even the deaf. Still, they cannot speak from the weight of the energy rushing over them.

The sentinels are next, joints breaking from combined cold and pressure, cracks spreading up the surface of now-fragile plastic and metal as they are rent piece-by-piece into useless garbage. Their controls are destroyed, but the speakers the scientists hide behind nearly a mile away, hidden deep within the base, draw the noise in and force it out, amplified because the mutants had destroyed their volume controls. The panels the scientists hide behind shatter, killing two.

The first wave dies, and a second begins. They cannot but feel that something is wrong. The aura swirling around them has darkened, and the jagged threads of crimson in the radiating light seem to increase in number as he directs an anger-filled cry towards the sky, blowing unseen sentinels from the skies like so many dust particles, meaningless, useless.

The destruction ends, leaving a devastated landscape. The figure lingers yet, immobile, almost oblivious to its surroundings. Nothing but ice and quiet remains. The mutants stand, gaping at the results of such awful power, seemingly on par with the Phoenix itself.

It feels as though they have seen the world end, and have heard the souls who died with it. The cold permeates their minds, almost the effects of a dementor, and stills their limbs for long moments. Slowly, as they shiver in silence, the towering being turns towards them, and even those under his protection fight the need to run.

Its eyes aren't kindly blue or powerful green. The irises stare, garish, murderous red, unalleviated by any color. Demonic fury seems to well from them, no source left to direct it towards. The figure doesn't in the slightest resemble Mr. Williams, but rather some otherworldly horror.

"Mr. Williams?" Ororo speaks, and the figure glows yet brighter, taking in her fear. She is not one of the protected. Only his former students hold any claim in his soul, and the undirected obsession must find an outlet. He cannot recognize her, nor many of the others. Death stares from his unblinking eyes as he meets Ororo's, fearless.

"Danny!" Ellie cries aloud, and the being turns his baleful gaze on her. She visibly shudders. "Stop it! They aren't the ones to hurt! If you dare let your obsession take over, you'll be as bad as Desire!"

A beat.

Another beat.

He seems puzzled, flies closer, and seems to study her. A whisper of a word passes his lips. "Danielle? I can't…"

"You're an idiot! You'd better not attack! Besides, if you hurt the adults, the others will be hurt, too. Doesn't Jamie like some of them? What about the others? You could kill Marie if you try something." She yells desperately, hoping one of her shots reaches through his clouded state.

Slowly, a flicker of confusion wrinkles his brow as his glow dims. "I…suppose." A moment later, his words seem to hit him as comprehension of his actions reaches his mind, and the glow ebbs further, the red in his eyes and aura fading, and horror sears across his face as he understands his previous actions. The last of the unnatural glow fades and he begins to sink. "Thanks," he murmurs, eyes darting between blue and green, before settling at blue. What seems to be a pale, green tear trickles from his eye, and they finally notice the dripping blood falling from his body. Bandages fall away from his body, loosened by the exertion of earlier, leaving many of his wounds fully exposed, ripped and seeping faster from his body.

He crumbles from the sky, dropping like a meteor, and Ellie manages to catch him somehow, terrified. Suddenly, she, too, begins to glow more powerfully, throwing a soft light across the Mount St. Helens-esque scene, and their teacher's dim glow returns, flutters, sputters, struggles to leave. Jamie doesn't know what she's doing, but sees that something is seriously wrong. The light from the two aliens flutters and dims, and Ellie begins to droop forwards, before Amorpho scurries across the scene, pulling her back, holding her tight as she struggles to move towards Mr. Williams, the glow around his body dimming more quickly by the second, skin darkening as the glow fades away, until a final snake of red light slithers back into his body and his flesh begins to bubble. Sparks of icy blue spread across his body and fade into the air, and a violent seizure grips his form for several moments, before he finally stops twitching.

When the last of his life has faded, though Hank tries to deliver CPR, Amorpho releases Danielle, who surges forwards, dropping beside him once more, hands glowing vibrantly in the pale beginnings of dawn. She seems to struggle further, but no changes result. Shaking, she allows a single, anguished scream, rests her head briefly against his chest and stretches her hands skyward in a releasing gesture, before recalling reality. She has no time for mourning. If sentinels return, they aren't powerful enough to fight off many.

She straightens, picking up the corpse, stalks towards Blink, and states in a deadened tone, "Make a portal to the base."

...

(Back at said base)

Many mutants stand and watch the sky, waiting for the Quinjet to make it back. It's a matter of time before they came back, though how many would have survived was up for debate. Magneto and Logan are sure to come back, those two the more likely ones, followed by the Professor and maybe Mystique.

Finally, instead of from the sky, the teams issue from a huge portal. Hank McCoy, Beast, carries Jamie in his hairy, blue arms as they enter. With every moment that passes, Jamie feels more and more restless. He tries to sit up a bit on his own strength, but still can't muster the energy, not even with the entry. He stares in stark confusion at the massive place, wondering why he's never been here.

Ellie still carries Mr. Williams as though he is lighter than a feather, his body broken from the strain of tearing the last of his core down to supply his attacks. They don't know, couldn't know, that he had let himself go. He could have clung to existence by feeding off his obsession, killing the adults. In the end, denying an overpowering obsession is what really killed him.

Jamie vows he will never permit this to happen again, not if he can possibly stop it. He cannot be like Kurt, helpless with grief. He must be more like Mr. Williams, who stood up back again and again to protect everyone and succeeded every time. Jamie will recover from his wounds and he will become stronger, even if he has to sell his soul to the devil to keep those he cares about from suffering as badly as he has.

He knows the culprit's identity. There is no doubt who the enemy is: humanity.

The humans are the reason he has been made to teeter on the edge of death.

The humans are the reason Marie hovers in a coma between life and death, and Kitty remains unconscious , perhaps from some parting shot.

The humans are the reason Mr. Williams' blood leaks into the ground, a cold death the only repayment for saving their lives.

And so, with fire burning into his soul, Jamie gives a firm step toward darkness.

 **Hi, all! Like the chapter? Hate it? Just a meh? Don't forget those lovely reviews! And there is a reason for how long it took. This chapter is around 8,000 words long without the A/Ns, so it's three times the length of the usual chapter, at 2,000 words. This is why it was necessary to have a big rescue party in the beginning.**

 **So…I haven't got any major announcements, except that school has started back (HAPPY FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!), though for me it never stopped. I'll be juggling eleven classes, but it'll be livable and chapters will definitely still pop up. I'm not sure of exact dates, but around early December, I'll be unable to update much, because I'll have several finals, and again in early May. I'm an editor of the newspaper at my school! Woo-hoo! And NaNoWriMo is coming up. So's Ectober, though I'm not sure if I'll participate.**

 **Finally, please, somebody, make a Coauthor Appreciation Day. Or Week. Or Month. And does anybody know good (free) websites for learning Japanese kanji?**

 **-MiaulinK**


	36. Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

**I own nothing-that is to say, the recognizable characters are unowned by me. This plot totally does belong to both me and my co-author,** _ **Chicaalterego**_ **.**

 _Marie struggles upright, stunned, staring, before she doubles over and starts to vomit, shivers seizing her body, and her nose starts to bleed. Every part of her body burns, and a headache rages. She, too, loses consciousness as the night guard rushes towards them, yelling and barging in._

…

 _He knows the culprit's identity. There is no doubt who the enemy is: humanity._

 _The humans are the reason he has been made to teeter on the edge of death._

 _The humans are the reason Marie hovers in a coma between life and death, and Kitty remains unconscious , perhaps from some parting shot._

 _The humans are the reason Mr. Williams' blood leaks into the ground, a cold death the only repayment for saving their lives._

 _And so, with fire burning into his soul, Jamie gives a firm step toward darkness._

Chapter 35: Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Soft hands wield a shiny spoon clumsily. Chubby cheeks puff as lips close around another bite of cereal. Eating cereal is something she has done many times, but as she stares at the sweet flakes floating over milk, she scrunches her eyebrows. Eating cereal feels _wrong_ somehow.

"Princess? Does your head hurt?"

Marie chokes on cold milk and cereal, straightening like a tweaked spring. Words move from her mouth without permission. "No, ma'am." With these words, her hand moves towards her mouth once more.

Across the room sits her mom, Irene, leaning forward as though the proximity will allow her ears to detect what's wrong.

"Are you sure? You've been awful quiet."

"I-I-" Marie breaks off, unable to even begin to express her hopeless confusion. The light reflected in the polished spoon makes her feel uneasy, as though the steel utensil is something other than what her eyes detect. Phantom sounds of bangs and thuds momentarily clog her ears and cloud her vision, and her hand jerks.

The bowl of fruit loops hits the floor and shatters, the cold milk pouring across her lap. She shrieks, the shock of the bizarre day-vision rippling pain through her more than the tiny pricks of broken porcelain, piercing her soft slippers when she jumps away from the dripping table. Irene starts upright, a sudden, looming menace.

Marie flees the room, sound swelling until she hears nothing but the screaming and the crying, slamming the door to her own room and locking the door.

Slumping across her bed, she picks at the pink coverlets. Pink, so very pink. That color is wrong, just as everything else seems out of place. Pink is not her color. Brown hair tied into a ponytail, a bright smile and warm eyes; pink belongs with a girl she feels she should remember better. But she doesn't. She should, but she cannot remember, and the world feels more wrong than ever before.

Snippets of flashes of happy times, warm kisses, and bedtime fairytales come to mind but they are blurry, faded. They happened so long ago... it had been so long since life was simple and happy. Suddenly, Marie realizes she's in the midst of a hallucination, a reenactment of the past brought up by the drugs of some sadist scientists in the lab.

After all, wasn't she a prisoner the last time she woke up? There's no alternate explanation for this trip down memory lane. She must have been captured again, after all, one minute she's trying to get away from her suicidal teacher, the next in a safe place-as safe as living with a shapeshifter and a prophet can be.

Marie rolls over, enjoying the feeling of a warm bed and an unmarred body. She wants to stay there forever, keeping the real world at bay until she forgets everything bad she has gone through. If she went back to that hell...she would rather die in a dream. And yet, giving up is not an option; she needs to go back. She forces meditation.

 _Voices, a crowd of haunting whispers, fearsome screams pounding on her eardrums..._ she breathes deeply: ' _I am alone'_ and the screams muffle down to a low buzzing. Her panic tones down and she feels her muscles relaxing, limp, supporting no weight. She needs to remind herself that nothing around her is real before sinking into the mattress. She stares at the creamy ceiling with butterfly stickers. She had forgotten about those.

Maybe she should try to enjoy the illusion for as long as it lasts. After all, the world in her head is a much-needed reprieve for her soul.

The world turns hazy for a moment and she feels her body move itself forwards like a message-bottle on the waves of the sea. Muscle memory makes her collect clothes and change out of ragged pajamas. Then, naked, she steps into the shower, hand reaching for a rose scented soap she knows is there even when she doesn't remember it. She pours some shampoo out of a smiling pink bottle, runs her hands together until bubbles form, and washes all the mental dirt away with warm water. She feels cleaner and more relaxed than she has been in ages.

Stepping out of the shower, she turns around to a set of blindingly pink curtains, previously unnoticed in her dazed state. They tickle a memory from the back of her head, long forgotten.

 _"This one, Mommy, this one!" she tugs the blindingly pink curtains in a big shop, "This looks just like a pwincess window!"_

 _"Now, Marie, we can't get that right now. We're looking for the magical carpet merchandise designed to give us great credit scores or put us in jail for overdrawing," Rachel Addler mumbles._

 _"But Moommyyy! It's pwetyfuw!"_

 _"Rug or curtains?"_

 _Marie is devastated. She needs the rug so she can go places but the curtains are so pretty. She decides to be like an adult and reason things out… "But Ween won't mind! She wikes when I get pwetty stuff!"_

 _"She's blind," Rachel points out. "Which one do you want?"_

 _Marie's eyes fill with tears and she sniffles for extra effect._

 _"Fine. But no toys."_

Marie shakes herself loose. Her brain had designed her own room consistent with the age of six? Those drugs must've been pretty powerful to put her this far down and make her choose these ugly decorations. Her moms must've been really nice to let her destroy a perfectly good room like this. It needs more…darkness. And a lot less pink.

Marie, not willing to look like a little princess, searches for the dullest, least sparkly clothes she can find in the closet. It's no wonder she forgot about all this-being exposed to such horrid decorations must have made it a necessity for her psyche to block the memories away. She definitely doesn't like the look in the wooden dresser's mirror, either. No matter the clues, it still gives her a shock to see such a babyish face staring back at her. She delivers a sharp poke to the baby-fat cheeks and closes her eyes.

She's in her head, so she should have some power over the events.

"Make me older. Make me older. Make me older!" she chants, pouring her will into changing the world outside. When she opens her eyes, the same face stares back at her. Of course her brain won't let her change stuff. This is a torture trip, after all. She rolls her eyes and pulls on the only dark shirt in her entire wardrobe, baggy and stained with orange spaghetti sauce. At least it looks better than the rest, especially the post-shower sparkly unicorn shirt.

That done, she turns to the curtains; her little hands itch to tear them away. Good thing Irene always let her have alone time (within reason). She scoots the chair under the window and tries to pull down the stupid accessories. If her brain won't let her do it, at least it lets her body do it. A _riippp_ resounds throughout the room and she crashes with an alarmed cry as the entire window rod comes down. On top of her.

She moans dramatically as she sits back up, contemplating giving mental alterations one more try. Steps echo across the floor outside her room as she begs the pinkness of the room to go away, giving up as Irene' white cane taps the door and a key fiddles in the knob.

Before Irene can ask, Marie yells, "I'm alright!"

Ignoring her protests, Irene opens the door. "What was that bang?"

Marie mumbles, "The curtains fell down."

"They did? Or were you swinging on them?" Irene's suspicion is clear and she leans forward with amusement, touching the fabric spread across the floor, confirming that fact, at least.

"I sort of swung a little bit…" Marie admits. "Didn't you know?" she asks innocently to the prophetess. The expression on Irene's face is absolutely worth hinting at mutant abilities.

"How could I know?" Irene seems indulgent, entertained by Marie's comment.

Marie snorts. "You know practically everything," Marie lets bitterness creep into her voice. The woman in front of her, her mother, would push her down a path that would bring, that _had_ brought Marie so much grief. "Destiny, remember?" she mocked. It felt incredibly therapeutic to face this woman and let out some of the poison corroding a place deeply buried in her heart, even though the two years after Apocalypse had been defeated alleviated the blistering anger she'd felt towards the two manipulators of her early years. Mystique choosing to stay with the X-Men from time to time had allowed plenty of time for Rogue to make sense of things.

It helped that she'd felt guilty about murdering Mystique's statue/Mystique. They still didn't know how any of the Four Horsemen had survived.

Of course, there is a teensy-weensy prick of guilt when Irene suddenly appears to be swallowing a lemon. She knows she shouldn't make mommy _('Crap, where are the stupid mommy thoughts coming from?')_ unhappy.

"Wh-what do you mean, Destiny?"

Marie pushes the guilt away. That guilt is something Irene barely deserves after everything she had done. "Um, prophetess of impending doom and all that jazz, y'know?" She shakes her head, "That codename was _waayyy_ better than Magneto, though. Who chose your name and can you get Mr. M the card?"

Huh? Marie hadn't meant to say that.

Irene hesitates, "How do you know about he and I?"

"I-?"

Irene frowns and suddenly becomes forceful: "How do you know?"

Marie has never seen so fierce an appearance ascribed to the woman standing above her but doesn't flinch. The scientists of the past few weeks were way worse. "You're just part of my imagination!" she declares firmly, in a loud tone. Her head pounds, the voices are absent, but her ears are ringing. "You should know the answer to this one even without being a prophet!" Marie declares while she grips her own head in pain.

Irene hesitates, starts to open her mouth, and appears to think hard. "Your imagination?" Marie can swear she sees the thought form: _'Is this her mutation?'_ She wishes it were so. This is much more interesting. Except that the only clear thought-people in her head aren't clear at all. A few words make a garbled passage from their minds. It was much easier when she could use them to advise her.

"Imagination. Not mutation." She corrects. All of a sudden, Marie is fed up with the drug-induced childhood tour, "Now can you please go away? I have things to do... like make this room green and you aren't being helpful."

Irene looks puzzled. "How do you-and why green?"

"Why do you care? In fact, I never understood why you bothered to hide everything important from me. I mustn't have been all that important to you, not as important as Mystique and Magneto at the very least."

"M-Mystique? Who're you talking about?"

She's lying, Marie knows. And the lies, old and familiar, make her snap. "Rachel, shapeshifter, serves Magneto in her spare time, tried to make me join the Brotherhood? Ringing a bell?" The confusion and horror only seems to grow as Irene stares. Marie shifts uneasily-even in her imagination, she can do things wrong.

"Marie, I think we need to have a talk."

…

The talk Irene threatens Marie with is truly awkward, a mess of nervous movement on her part and confused amusement on Marie's. It's pretty entertaining that she finds it so hard to talk about known facts. She doesn't call Mystique into the conversation until supper, long after debriefing her on the situation.

The skin-stealer walks in with confidence thinly veiling worry, blue in all her glory, prepared for anything. She wears normal, human clothes, though she doesn't use them to hide her body, rather with the minimum of coverage considered decent. Her golden-green eyes judge the situation as if deciding whether she really should be so bold as to use this form.

Marie doesn't start when she enters, too used to life at the mansion. Were a mutant to come, pink with purple stripes and burgundy eyes, covered in scales and spikes like a flail, she would wouldn't so much as blink. Instead, she barely glances away from the book she's absorbed in. Something seems a little off about the situation but she dismisses it. The book is far too interesting to set down, Macbeth in glossy-illustrated beauty.

"Marie, are you alright?" Mystique enquires, forcing Marie to pay attention.

"Yeah. Gonna have a talk about me? She sure seems upset 'bout me knowing." Marie tilts her head in Irene's direction.

The seer inputs, "She won't tell me how she found out. She insists I know because I'm a hallucination." She sounds annoyed and tired. ' _At least neither of them is hiding their true natures-besides being figments,'_ Marie thinks. ' _They aren't pretending to not be mutants'_

Mystique frowns, "How do you know?"

Here we go again, Marie thinks. "Mom-Irene just told you why."

"I can assure you we're real," Mystique uses a calm tone with underlying exasperation.

"That's what hallucinations say, y'know. Besides, I haven't got a good reason to believe you." Marie offers a smug smirk. These versions of her moms are consistent with what she remembers, not open, but at the same time not closed off completely. They had always treated her more like an adult than most people. She knows it's a sign of trust, which they'd always appeared to give her.

"I can prove it," the scale-skinned mutant tells her.

"Go for it," Marie shoots back.

"Read me a paragraph of the book you're holding."

Marie complies: "It will have blood: they say blood will have blood: stones have been known to move and trees to speak; augures and understood relations have by magpies and choughs and rocks brought forth the secret'st man of blood. What is the night?"

"Read it again," Mystique orders.

Marie once again obeys, wondering what the point is until it suddenly hits her as she reads the final sentence. The words are the same and she remembers something she read years ago, "How to Know if You are Dreaming." One of the tests was to read something and then read it again. The words would be different because it was so hard to keep things stable in a dream. But this…this isn't possible, not unless she never experienced any of this in the first place, and it's too real for her to have never experienced it.

She scans the words again but they remain the same. Perhaps this is what the professor calls a safety mechanism. Maybe it's a dream thing that remains the same, but she can tell that isn't true. If the past three, nay, eleven or twelve years were but a dream, she couldn't have predicted the shapeshifter and seer's abilities unless it really was her mutation, but that was incredibly unlikely, like the possibility of finding a fifth of a needle in a huge haystack. Her mutation was supposed to be absorption, not prediction, and the chance of two unrelated seers existing in the same family without intent is low. Maybe she has two?

' _Phantom'_

The word floods her brain like water from leaking sewers and she suppresses it quickly. Mutations don't show themselves until the age of thirteen or later, typically, so why would she be different? Maybe there is a good explanation that she hasn't thought of yet. She screws herself into a knot trying to find it.

Her memories are real... but maybe this world is as well.

With a sudden grimace, she realizes that if she _is_ a seer, she still lived through experiments-Jamie, if he exists, is lucky to be alive after all that, assuming he is, in fact, (or will be) still alive.

She remembers the whirring shaver sliding through her dark hair, sees it fall-she couldn't move, fastened to the chair to prevent her movement as the man deliberately angled the shears against her head and left a minor gash, mumbling a sarcastic oops. She realizes her body has responded to the fear the only way a tiny child can, by curling against Destiny, pressing her face against the woman's chest as though it will force the memory-dreams away. The psychic pulls her tight against herself, not knowing why she trembles.

The feeling comforts her for no apparent reason, as though she actually believes the mutant can protect her. Her skin is soft, easily penetrable, no real help against death. She whimpers as her brain throbs, the thought pulling the hundreds of near-deaths to mind, the guns and knives and massive robots more real to her than her present life. The sounds she'd so easily suppressed a few hours earlier are all which exist of her suddenly, her mind empty against their painful inflictions. Her body bubbles over with weeping and screaming as the pain bogs her deep into a pitch-pit, her final fully aware moments a burst of blue light piercing through her eyes and skull.

…

The shaking and crying eases eventually, Marie too tired to sustain terror. Even a mind can grow exhausted, and for her it easily takes less than twenty minutes from beginning to end. No matter the pain she endures, bone-deep fatigue must triumph. She slips into slumber after a few minutes of near-normal consciousness.

…

The faint beginnings of astronomical twilight discovers her, still asleep on the couch, a pale blue blanket tucked tight about her, head propped on a pillow set down as the stars began to sprinkle the sky. She wakens uncomfortably, couch springs jabbing her back with hundreds of needles. It isn't exactly the most comfortable of beds, but moving her during the night might have woken her.

She creeps sluggishly out of the warmth of blanketing, into the icy cold of winter running full blast in her house. It feels like the house was caught in a tornado and instead of arriving in Oz, it came to Antarctica and couldn't be bothered to place her near any warm buildings, instead dropping her into the ocean. Mystique loves the cold. Destiny tolerates it. They forget that Marie is a full-blown southern girl, used to ninety degrees on a nice summer day and a hundred on worse ones. At least they let the humidity be. They moved from up north and wanted her to feel as at-home as she could-excepting the frost probably creeping up the windows by now. They'd homeschooled her for the longest time to keep her away from the others, just in case.

Future nightmares lie heavy in her mind and she pulls the blanket tight about her, sliding to the floor. After a bit, she gathers the willpower required to fight away the shadowed future and stumble, brain-habit taking over, down the hall and into the master bedroom where Mystique and Destiny lay, sleeping. She nearly halts her instinctive climb onto the bed but gives in easily to old habits, crawling across the sheets and nuzzling her small body into a cranny between the two. Their warmth eases the frosty chill and she pulls the blankets away from the two, over her head, releasing a yawn. The blue skinned shapechanger briefly stirs in awareness before relaxing once more, leaving Marie to lay in the dark twilight, comfortably warm and drowsy.

Unfortunately for an attempt at slumber, as Marie's eyes finally begin to drift shut, the scream of an alarm clock rattles her eardrums and very nearly the walls of the house. She shoots awake in a split second, jolted from near-repose. Destiny, beside her, shows no such signs of shock, rolling over. Mystique props herself up and turns off the alarm, peeling away the covers and sending an icy blast over Marie's goosebump-riddled skin. She resists the urge to show awareness by curling against the far-sighted mutant, instead lying still as a brick.

The clock turns off and leaves Marie wide-awake. She hears the form-stealer talking on the phone and recognizes the meaning of the words. Mystique is calling in sick. This leaves Marie doomed to a full day of intense mothering. She slides as deeply into her bed as physically possible, stealing the warmth left in the bedcovers from the abandoned spot. She snuggles tight and makes plans to change the air conditioner settings. They ought to be grateful when she does-they must spend a fortune on it.

The sizzle of bacon reawakens Irene, who slowly pulls herself out of bed, reaching to the right to prod Marie up, well-aware of her presence. Marie moans, but gets up anyways. It's not like she has much of a choice.

Still, even with the alluring scents from the kitchen, Marie can't eat. She props her head against the table with a sigh and picks at scrambled eggs with her fork tines, spreading each apart and shoving them back together.

"Marie, eat your eggs," Mystique demands.

Marie responds by setting the fork down and saying, "…not hungry." She would have seen the look her mothers exchange above her except that she is riddled with misery. She doesn't even touch the chocolate milk the shapeshifter had made for her, the truest measure of her mood.

There is an elephant in the room-no, not just sitting, tap dancing in neon leotards-and they have all decided to pretend it isn't there for several hours now. It's a relief to Marie, but even if she plays dumb, she knows the three of them know it's there.

Marie shouldn't have opened her big mouth.

"You don't have to eat. How do you feel?" Irene leads, her voice steady but careful.

"Not your business," Marie groans, annoyed.

"It is. I'm your mom. I need to know these things. I need you to tell me how you know these things," Mystique responds. There it goes again, that protectiveness that makes her want to latch into her skirts again and find safety in her mothers' arms.

Irene asks, "Did you see something-something that hasn't happened yet?" Ah, they've already jumped to the same conclusion Marie has given thought to, the idea that she might be a seer herself.

"Dunno," Marie responds evasively. The next question arrives, a predictable "What did you see?" Marie closes up and gives them the silent treatment. She won't speak about the future until she has some idea what's happening.

They can't make her.

…

Time passes, but the illusion persists. Things are blurry those first weeks. Marie darts between childish behavior, clear understanding, and vague visions. Like the burst of light she'd experienced that first time, the light and the screaming, sounds and sights reach her from what she suspects is the distant future. Most disturbing are her memories. As time passes, what she remembers of the future fade until she barely recalls Phantom and forgets Fenton altogether. She is unsure if forgetting is for the best, but remembering hurts too much.

Yet, while the memories fade to little more than dust, the nightmares intensify. The voices tell her things she rarely remembers by the time breakfast is over the next morning, but the fear that wakes up every morning makes her sweat cold and scream in the nights until her throat burns sorely in complaint. Mentions of the others, especially Kitty, reach her and expose her to the double-edged steel of reality, shredding her mind to bits for minutes on end.

Then, when the one month mark approaches, the memories slam into her once more. She feels nauseous and brittle.

What takes the cake is that, after swimming in and out of a river of madness, Mystique, a woman with more issues than most newspapers, suggests Marie should get a therapist.

What the hell is Marie supposed to say to a human therapist? Still…

Maybe she's right.

...

Time slurs forwards. A day into a week, a week into a month and a month into three. Culture shock is gone a few months into the change, the nightmares almost nonexistent. There are moments the voices whisper to her, but they no longer scream. Life moves on and changes go deeper than a pucket of dark green paint on top of pink walls.

Then, one day, as she stares at the walls of the neighborhood school, something clicks in her head: there is something she has to do.

"I gotta go," Marie declares, the school building in front of her eyes reminding her of another school, of a home that she had lost.

"Go where?" Mystique asks to the adult in a child body that has so little in common with the child that had loved her and Irene like two mothers.

The six-year-old closes her eyes, then opens them back towards the sky, "California."

"California? Why?" The skin-stealer smiles without mirth. The Marie's eyes seemed to hold a shine that Mystique was most used to seen in her beloved Magneto's as he spoke of his dreams for the mutant race.

"There's someone that I need to meet!" She announces, fists clenched with determination.

"Marie, you won't be going, especially not on your own." Mystique declares swiftly, not allowing Marie to find an excuse.

"But-"

"No 'ands', 'ifs', 'buts', or 'ors'. Absolutely no."

Marie sighs and plops her bag on the floor, grabbing cookies from the cabinets and milk from the fridge.

 **Hallo! Remember…like, follow, review, comment, or PM. All's good by me! Yep, no good excuse for this one's time. To be perfectly honest, this is NOT a symptom of me losing interest. This is a symptom of distraction.**

 **On the bright side, I am now officially publishing news articles for my school's newspaper!**

 **Once again on the bright side, THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UP IN TWO-THREE WEEKS TOPS! If possible, I would love to update so ridiculously fast I could take the world by word-storm.**

 **Also, to those who have reviewed, liked, and/or followed, a big THANKS! To those who did** _ **Ectober**_ **, I forgot to. And to those doing** _ **NaNoWriMo**_ **, I hope I shall join your ranks someday. I have a marvelous idea, but it hasn't got a plot, so I probably won't really do it…yet, anyways. But I will be participating** _ **'de facto'**_ **(I think I can use that term?) because I will try to write 50,000 words for all of my ongoing/new stories total this month.**

 **Also, I have begun the first pages of** _ **VALKA**_ **, the graphic novel I've been raving about creating, so if you go to Tumblr, you'll see page-by-page updates. On** _ **DeviantArt**_ **, I will upload in sets of five pages.**

 **Also, did you know that** _ **Danny Phantom**_ **may be added to? I'm not sure whether to be worried or happy. Honestly, I would love it if they did a movie more geared towards adults and teens with Danny and Sam married than them doing a cartoon. It feels like using a bunch of older guys in a cartoon for kids would be weird. It's ten years later, so Danny would be at least 24, most likely about 26. Imagine a ten-year-old watching that. This** _ **Danny Phantom**_ **movie would be for people whose childhood died when they took the show away.**

 **Did you know that there are elections known as gubernatorial elections? Those must be for peanuts. I have a feeling America is doomed. I wonder what the other countries think about these latest elections.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	37. Time Crunch

**I own nothing! Much to my great dissatisfaction, my name is not Butch Hartman, nor do I represent Nickelodeon…HOWEVER, I do own the plot, and so does Chicaalterego, the coauthor of this story. She said this chapter didn't need much work, just that I needed to extend the ending, so for this eensy, weensy bit, the chapter is all mine (plus the suggestion, written by yours-truly).**

 _"There's someone that I need to meet!" She announces, fists clenched with determination._

 _"Marie, you won't be going, especially not on your own." Mystique declares swiftly, not allowing Marie to find an excuse._

 _"But-"_

 _"No 'ands', 'ifs', 'buts', or 'ors'. Absolutely no."_

 _Marie sighs and plops her bag on the floor, grabbing cookies from the cabinets and milk from the fridge._

Chapter 35: Time Crunch

Marie isn't sure what to do about her latest dilemma. Without the memories of all her future-visions, she doesn't know how to proceed. She remembers California, but not much else. With only the two distinct words she remembers of the past/future, _California_ and _Phantom_ , it's more than a little hard deciding how to leave, where to go, and what precisely she's looking for. It would be nice if she remembered a location, but it evades her, even in her dreams.

Having made the decision to leave, though, Marie now has the most basic of all problems to solve: should she run away or try to make the others tag along? After she solves that, she can figure out what else to do. She's already tried to convince Mystique/Rachel to take her, but if she pulls the "I'm a seer-mutant and something big is going down in California" card, she might have a hairline chance. Destiny might be more easily persuaded of the importance of the mission.

The good parts about taking them would be the lack of a manhunt, the support, and faster transportation. It is also more likely Rogue will reach her destination-whatever that might be-if adults come. The bad parts involved how manipulative Rachel can be, and that Destiny might know everything. Marie has no idea how that would affect things. Still, if the Phantom person knows anything, he'll probably realize something's up and be able to evade the problems she foresees.

Eventually, she decides giving it a try is worth it.

Less than a week after she brings up the idea of going to California with Mystique, she's dragged up enough information that she ought to be able to get by with a destination. She's filled a page with everything she needs to tell her parents, just in case if she almost forgets anything. She's prepared.

…

With a nervous grimace and a shuffling step, Marie sidles into the living room where their first confrontation took place. Irene sits near the icy fan, listening to Rachel's complaining from the kitchen. Mystique/Rachel recites her day, cooking up steamy tales of the boss's affairs and okra at the same time. Quintessentially southern, the okra is fried to perfection, the result of Rogue's endless complaining every time Rachel had undercooked or boiled it. The two northerners still aren't great fans, but Rogue is converting them piece by piece. They'd already come to like heart-attack green beans. She isn't anywhere near making them like boiled peanuts as much as she does…yet.

Baked spaghetti and meatballs await as well, and Rogue isn't quite certain when to bring up the trip she has in mind. The lined notebook paper crinkles in her pocket, opening terrified, gaping holes in her stomach, black pits into which it falls, only to discover a blender's lying in wait, turned to full, churning potential. Deeply uncomfortable, she digs her toes into the faded blue-green carpet to anchor her to the earth. Tracing wrinkle patterns into the floor, she stifles impatience as her elders fail to notice her apprehensive fidgeting.

Absently, it occurs to her to wonder how old Mystique is. She vaguely remembers from a vision that Rachel has always looked the same and observes that it could be shapeshifting or genuine immortality. Rachel had admitted to possessing a healing factor some time ago, so theoretically it could prevent her from aging. According to her calculations, the visions came from about thirteen years into the future, so it's a valid question.

Marie takes to chewing on her bird and pointer fingers, hoping somebody asks her what's wrong. As it turns out in many scenarios wherein someone actually wants attention, they seem to be deliberately ignoring her signals. What do they want her to do? Stand on her head? In the end, she realizes she has to start. They'll never notice unless she brings it up.

"Um, Mom, can we go?"

The clumsy start is bad enough, but Rachel's reply is worse, once she realizes what Marie is talking about. "To California? I know you want to-you brought it up just last Thursday. I already said no."

Marie protests, "But I even know where! Amity Park sounds like a really cool place! There's this weird website that says it's the most haunted place in America and a ton of conspiracy theories! It'd be so awesome!"

"It's not a good idea. For one, going to a place because there's a bunch of conspiracy theories isn't a good motivation. Another thing, there's no reason to go traveling. You're behind in your schooling since we let you have a break after your episode," Rachel firmly interposes.

Interrupting, Irene suddenly asks, "Marie, does this scheme have anything to do with your talent?"

Choking, Marie falters. If she could convince them to go to California without telling them what it was about, that would be ideal. Irene's picking up on her plan has blown a sun-size crater through that plan, however feeble it was.

Irene hears the freeze and Rachel fills in, "It _is_ about that, isn't it?"

Marie's ashen complexion is a tell-tale for her thoughts and the reality of the situation.

"Marie, if you'd tell us what you learned, we might help you. We might even take you to this Amity Park place you mentioned, but you've got to tell us what you're thinking," Irene insists.

"It's…it's none of your business! I don't want you changing things! You'd scare him! If you don't take me, I'll run away and you'll never, ever see me again!" Marie goes from a 2 to 10 on the scale of frustrated and scared within milliseconds. They'll manipulate Phantom and he'll never help her figure out what's going on. Without any idea of who Phantom is, she has no idea how he'd react to an attempt at manipulation.

"Marie," Irene interjects, "it's our job as your parents to keep you safe. If you have a really good reason to think you need to go to California, we'll take you. If you don't, we won't let you leave the house without adult supervision until you _do_ tell us _or_ you convincingly agree not to run away."

Marie examines the direness of the situation, struggling to decide whether telling the truth is worth the risk. Maybe she can make them promise to not interfere, but then she doesn't know if they'll keep their promises. It gives her a vomity feeling when she thinks about it, remembering that they can't be trusted with everything. She doesn't remember why anymore, but a thread of fear has sewn her lips shut for the past few months.

The problem for deciding whether she should tell them everything lies in her inability to recall why she needs to go to California. In fact, she knows full well she doesn't need to go there. The only thing she remembers for absolutely certain is that this Phantom's life is in danger, and that she must stop him from doing something at some point in time. She doesn't think it has anything to do with the flashes of visions of a dark future.

Rachel interrupts her calculations. "At least give us some idea of why you need to go."

Reluctantly, Marie releases the minor details she knows about the future, speaking of the Phantom and of her foreknowledge as to his demise. The words float in midair, smoke-like, waiting for the wind of refusal to blow them, useless, away.

Surprisingly enough, Irene volunteers support. "Rae, it might be a long shot, but you know how vague my visions are. I can't foresee far in most cases and I rarely get more than a feeling. I knew Marie would be one of us, but I never realized what mutation she'd get. Remember how I said she'd do something important to the world? This might be it."

"But it's just a feeling and she's only six!" Rachel protests protectively. Marie banishes thoughts of the bizarre fear of saying anything of importance, but grumbles internally at the unfairness of being excluded from conversation.

"You trained with Luis Hardin and what's-his-name Goodrich and I might be able to see their attacks," Irene justifies. "If she's precognitive, it might be best if we try to help her, even if she doesn't know what the outcome of her intervention could be. And since we homeschool her, we can bring the books. She doesn't have to drop behind, especially since she said she just needs to stop him from doing something crazy. It shouldn't take more than a week or two and it'll set her mind at rest."

Rachel offers a last objection, "I'm not up to the hero thing. You know I told you changing the future wasn't my thing. That's why we stopped following your maps. With _him_ breathing down my neck, I'm not sure I'd get away with a road trip. Just taking time off to raise Marie barely qualifies as an excuse. I can't lose another child."

Marie knows for certain now that they've forgotten her. What other child? She doesn't remember another one, not anymore at any rate.

Irene comforts her, "I know. But maybe now it's time to take a risk again. We can protect her together. Maybe we can even find other people to help us keep her safe. If you could read over my books and try to find anything about this, we could be certain if this is what we need to do. Maybe there'll be some hints about who can help us or something. We can even check up on him after this if Marie agrees to come along."

Rachel sighs, "Maybe. I…I just miss him. I guess it's better the way it turned out, though. I wouldn't have been a good mom back then."

…

It's decided, then, that they'll leave in a few days, though Marie struggles against the length of time, not knowing when they need to leave to get to the Amity Park place to stop whatever will go down. They pack the whole house into their trunks and leave Caldecott, Mississippi behind in their newish, 1992 Volvo station wagon.

Watching the place of her early life slide away from the car, Marie notes that the only pieces left of the town are the caked, red-mud dust and pollen coating the car in a camouflage of parched sweet corn gold and cerise shoe leather after about ten years of wear, tear, and staining. Rachel finally stops by a car wash on their way to the airport, slushing all the accumulated sludge of almost two years of ownership with less than five washes-none during that summer-onto the previously cleanish cement floor of the car wash. The suds stubbornly try to stay on the station wagon, showing true resilience until most burst.

Finally, they leave, the wet silk of the water spraying off as they drive with increasing speed to the great terminus, where broiling heat greets their feet, turning flesh to skin chips upon contact, even through the thick soles of flip-flops. Security isn't extremely tough to get through and Marie steals a window seat which she barely squeezes into, an extremely obese woman having stolen the seat nearest the aisle. With nowhere else to sit, Irene shuffles in behind Marie, sandwiched between the woman and Marie herself. Rachel sits across from them, a little nearer the cockpit, beside a balding man and his wife.

The trip is a giant pain, a true example of uncomfortable flights. About three times across the course of twenty hours, they have to come down from the air, inducing popping ears. One seat change occurs, the obese woman having left the plane on the first drop-off point. A crying toddler and her dad replace the woman. The baby must have hated flight, because she doesn't stop wailing until they leave. During the final halt, due to a mix-up in scheduling and turbulence, the plane is delayed for almost fifteen hours and they spend the night in a cramped hostel near the airport. They get up at four so they don't miss the plane and drag themselves into the terminal for another brief security check (as if any of them carry bombs). Somehow Marie feels glad it isn't in the 2000s. She seems to remember a security increase about then.

The plane trundles in at 6:00am and they drag noodle-limp limbs down the ramp. Rachel calls a car company, renting a small, deep green chevy with the scent of wet dog fur. This is what they get for such a small rental fee. Finally, they arrive in Mendocino County, on the border of desolation.

A sign looms above the trio, blocking out the sun, leaving a westward-cast shadow well over ten car-lengths in full. Written in black script on a yellow background, it reads, "Amity Park: A Safe Place to Live". From their vantage point as they cross the hill leading into the city, they see modernistic skyscrapers, so tall their tips almost skewered the sky like marshmallow sticks. A few seem to smolder faintly green. Around the outsides of the town, bricks and planks are cracked in the walls of ant-like houses, tiny compared to the monsters a few miles away. The town's borders lie deserted, though a few buildings, like the pearls cast before swine, yet gleam with newness and repairs. All in all, it seems rather as though a fairy ring in reverse had taken place, a disease tearing apart the outer immune system of the city, leaving the innards alone.

The words on the billboard are ironic in nature, it seems, especially since holes fracture even its surface, and petty vandalism in the form of all kinds of words seems to have been painted across the sign. Even at this distance, in the lurid light of dawn, coupled hearts are visible if one squints, along with public displays of scorn-red hearts erased with black paint, cupid's leaden arrows, even curses.

The car chugs over the border of the city, into the rot within, and a chill passes through their bodies, a foreboding and a physical sense that they've passed the line of no return. Deeper into the city they drive, past more houses, a ghost town if ever there were one.

Why hasn't this been on the news?

What caused this?

Questions unanswered, Rachel uneasily speeds up, driving faster than the limit, wary of whatever things might come their way. Potholes and craters line the streets, a hopeless maze. A few humans wheel past on bicycles, creaking their way to work. It's the safest way to go, they can see, since they narrowly evade potential downfalls. In fact, when Rachel had told the companies where she was going, they had refused to let her use their cars. She had been forced to lie just to obtain a car.

As they near the mostly-industrial parts of the city, an unzoned amalgamation of buildings with the residential spots in the middle, a black and white streak shoots past their window, blasting a hole in the ground at their wheels with some form of brilliant green light, before disappearing.

Finally, they reach a hotel, a little to the left of center in the town. Its sign hangs lopsided, but it stands. They park in the tiny lot outside the building, before Rachel goes in to check them in. Marie and Irene stay in the car, each gathering her thoughts on what could possibly be wrong with the city.

Rachel comes back with the keys to Room 126 and they move their piles of luggage from the car to the room in an incredibly short time, each having packed so much and chosen such a small room that they didn't bring in most of the stuff, just the clothes and absolute necessities.

The hotel isn't ostentatious, but it's designed well. Still, it has its oddities. For instance, the walls are made of a queer, steel substance, glowing the same faint green as the skyscrapers. Marie runs her finger along the wall, and small flakes of the substance rub onto her hand. She wipes it into the hem of her shirt and steps into the bathroom to relieve herself.

By the time she exits, Irene and Mystique are slumped across the bed, exhaustion felling even the seemingly-tireless shapeshifter, who appears corpselike from the instant she closes her eyes. The only thing destroying the image of her as a body is the snoring which issues from her mouth. Irene follows suit and Marie, equally exhausted, pulls out a sleeping bag and snuggles into its depths.

 **Wow, that chapter took longer than I thought it would! It was kind of fun to write, though. What do y'all think happened to Amity Park?**

 **If y'all could send a special thanks in the reviews to Chicaalterego for making the plot get this far, that would be amazing. She forced me to think the plot out ahead of time, something I rarely do unless strictly necessary. I know I've said this before, but I started with only a few scenes in my head and the idea that the DoFP arc would be involved somehow. She made me flesh it out, preventing it from sinking into the sewage pits of lost, abandoned stories.**

 **And yes, I'm a southern gal when it comes to culture. I live in the DEEP south-no, not in hell. Just in the regular, old USA. That's how I know about fried okra, the food of the gods. Seriously, if you haven't had grits, fried okra, and boiled peanuts at least once, you can't say you really know the south. Boiling okra just makes it slimy, but when you bread it in cornmeal and flour and stick it in vegetable oil in a frying pan, it morphs into the best thing ever. Cornbread is great and all, but it doesn't compare with okra. If you can have them at the same time, though, it's pure heaven. My mema (maternal grandma) has a great recipe for cornbread.**

 **-MiaulinK**


	38. A Day in Amity Park

**I own nothing!**

 _By the time she exits, Irene and Mystique are slumped across the bed, exhaustion felling even the seemingly-tireless shapeshifter, who appears corpselike from the instant she closes her eyes. The only thing destroying the image of her as a body is the snoring which issues from her mouth. Irene follows suit and Marie, equally exhausted, pulls out a sleeping bag and snuggles into its depths._

Chapter 36: A Day in Amity Park

Marie silently watches the crimson sun set behind the outline of Amity Park from her position on the balcony above the first floor. Despite the room number, which had implied a position on the lowest level, it turned out they were positioned in the third story to the west. Apparently, room numbers only apply to rooms that are functional. This place, as bare and ugly as it is, is reasonably nice.

She's been lying on the balcony for about half an hour now, waiting for her parents to return. Flat on her back, she can see the world's highest places. It's like the reverse of flying, where one might see the world's lowest places. Her clothes cling to her body with dampness. She'd been hot when she woke up and found the note telling her Rachel would return in an hour or two with supper. Irene had still been sound asleep. She'd filled the chrome sink with ice water and dumped her clothes in. Once they'd been soaked through, she'd put them back on and laid herself out on the balcony to absorb the last of the sun's heat.

The town is mostly silent, but she can hear a party going on a good distance away, and she's sure the music rattles the house it centers on. The lights in the streetlamps have just come on, sending brilliant white light across the grassier spots in the city. A few people appear to be sitting on benches near the lamps, as though moving from the lighted spots will bring burglars on their heads.

The world is quiet at night, and it holds true even for Amity Park. As darkness falls, she believes it will choke out the sounds and all will go totally silent, suffocating even laughter and anger. She half-believes the night itself is an entity in those moments, but dismisses the bewildering question of the presences flitting in her peripheral vision as Rachel interrupts her drowsy ponderings.

"What are you doing there?" The creaking of the door alerts Marie soon enough that she doesn't scream or otherwise show shock.

Marie blinks her droopy eyelids for a minute, not deigning Rachel with a response. Even though she had slept an entire afternoon and morning earlier, she's still sleepy. Besides, she deserves this soul-calm, even with poky cement stabbing her. That's what she laid a towel out for, that and making sure she doesn't get foot-rot or something from a former resident, hopefully one who hadn't left because they had died. Staying in a dead human's hotel room isn't very appealing.

"I brought back some Nutella from the dollar store down the road. I guess you're too busy relaxing to eat it," Rachel smirks, turning and leaving.

In a moment, Marie is on her feet, all curiosity and philosophical ponderings disappearing. No way will Rachel get the chocolate before she does! Within a moment of setting her foot on the false wood floor, though, she hits a slippery spot and falls hard, landing on her butt with a yowl of pain and shock. It's like stepping on a banana peel, only less visibly there. She rolls onto her side and sits up moaning.

Upon resuming her feet, the girl notes Irene, who sits calmly at the tiny wooden table eating a spoonful of melty chocolaty goodness. The smell permeates the air even for such a comparatively big range. Not giving the slipperiness of the floor any attention, Marie hurtles the rest of the way to the table where she leans across as far as she can, trying to grab the jar of Nutella. Irene calmly moves it closer to her body, practically cradling it against her chest to keep Marie from grabbing it.

Marie lunges under the table, popping up on the other side, but by the time she's made it, Irene has suspended it almost a foot above her reach.

"Marie, wipe up the water you spilled on the floor doing whatever it was you were doing and change clothes. Then we'll see about getting you some Nutella before Irene eats it all. Hurry up!"

Dignity lost in her attempts to get the chocolaty substance, Marie sighs gravitasciously and slides her feet protestingly to her bag, where she pulls out a new pair of jeans and a shirt. In the bathroom, she changes clothes quickly and rushes back, hopeful. By the time she returns, however, a new smell radiates from the kitchen, that of sardines and chips. Marie guesses they got it from the dollar store, and even though she doesn't really like sardines that well, she wants food and the Nutella has been hidden.

She wipes up the water and settles in a chair, pushing it up to the table with what little upper body strength someone of her age can have. Within moments, she's stolen several drumsticks and starts gobbling them down. Who knew sitting in a plane for hours could garner such an appetite?

She listens to the adults talk over her head, impatient to get something done.

"Irene, have you had any visions about why Marie might need to come here?" Rachel enquires.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. Mostly it's just little bits and pieces of foretelling. There's a girl around here who we need to find. She's been hospitalized at wherever their hospital is. She should know who we need to see, or at least she's connected. And we already know the boy is in school, so the girl is likely a teenager herself." Irene offers.

"What if I pose as a teen for a few weeks or until we figure out who we're after? I've posed as one before so I'm sure I could pull it off again." Rachel states.

Irene hesitates, "It's been a while. Do you even know what teens are like?"

"I'm sure I can catch on." Rachel is confident.

"And what about the lack of school since it's summer?" Irene points out logically.

"It can be managed. I'm sure with a little scouting I can find my way into the inner circle. They're probably the richest kid on the block or something like that. When I find my door in, I get into a party and I make some friends. After I make some friends, I can figure out who Marie needs to meet."

They seem to be ignoring that Marie is the one who had the visions, so she quickly reminds them. "Um, you won't recognize them. I will!"

Rachel turns her attention to the younger girl, "Once I've narrowed down the possibilities, I'll take them to meet you, introducing you as my sister or something. Then you'll be able to identify them and we can hurry up and get them to avoid whatever you're supposed to make them avoid. In the meantime, Irene might have a vision to help me narrow down the possibilities. We really only know that he's a teen and he's a boy. You say he's really powerful, as well. Do you remember anything else?"

"No," Marie utters a little dejectedly. She wishes, since she's thrown herself headfirst into telling them about him, that she knew more.

"Will you tell us if you remember more?" Irene emphasizes.

"'Course I will."

Irene and Rachel seem a little doubtful, but they return to their scheming.

…

The following morning the trio makes a run to the mall for food and teen-appropriate wear. The wear is both clothing-wise and skin-wise. Rachel is surveying what teens appear to like most around these parts. She knows if she wants a chance of getting into the upper echelon of teen society she has to be attractive.

She observes several potential people to imitate, aside from making herself so unnaturally curvy and skinny it's practically sickening. There's a blonde by the name of Starr and a Latino named Paulina. From the number of girls and guys hanging on this "Paulina's" every word, she's in the highest ranks. Rachel takes mental note of the social order. A Chinese or Asian teen almost large enough to appear full-grown goes by the name of Kwan and appears to be dating Starr. Paulina is going out with a traditional football man, blonde and muscular. Guessing by the looks, Kwan is the smartest of the humans. The blonde is a meathead-jock stereotype if ever she saw one.

She decides on an appearance and ducks behind a pillar in a rare camera-free zone, transforming into a ridiculous girl she wants to laugh at. She looks downright freakish, she notes, as she glances in a reflecting window.

The girl she uses the appearance of has jet black hair, tanned skin, and amber eyes. The eyes are a little touch straight out of boredom land. She doesn't want to stick with the old commoner look, and she might as well attract attention. She tries to avoid appearing threatening as a love-interest, that way she doesn't make enemies of the top dogs, but she still has to look good enough to get into the ranks. Money and looks are key, after all.

She uses the ridiculous versions of "sexy" that appeal to some people, with an unnaturally thin waist that would surely signal anorexia in a girl who couldn't reshape her bones at a moment's notice and gives herself cartoonishly big breasts, before toning it down a little. She likes mocking people's ideas of perfect, but even idiots would notice something was wrong about her figure. She expands her waist a little and brings the chest size down. She looks horrible, but she's probably every teenage boy's wet dream and that's the intent. The clothes, of course, are revealing, since trying to attract attention without skinny clothes is pointless, but she makes a point to wear normal jeans, even if the shirt is intentionally expensive.

Next comes the approach. She struts up to Paulina with a bold step, telling herself she gets a smoothie and a doughnut for making herself do this. Taking a deep internal breath, she pitches her voice higher and asks, "Hi, I'm new here in town. Are there any _good_ clothing outlets here at the mall?"

Paulina pauses, staring. Rachel is reasonably sure she's being assessed on threat level, especially since the males are staring at her, too. Tensions rise like rubber bands preparing to snap until Paulina states, "Who're you?"

Okay, questions. That's a good sign, Rachel tells herself. "My name is Rachel Adler. Yours?"

Once again she gets a pause. "Paulina Sanchez. Over there" gesturing to a side store, "that's a good place. Most of the clothes around here are crap."

The threat has passed, and Rachel realizes she's probably been approved on the grounds that she won't ever be here again. She lets the rich girl keep her ideas and disappears behind another nice pot of plants, changing back to her proper human self, making her way back to Marie and Irene.

"I've introduced myself," Rachel reports. "Now I've just got to make them stay friendly. Chopped ham?"

"Sure. You never know when you'll need a good sandwich. Marie already got the whole wheat bread and jam and I blame her for the cereal. Good luck-and what's your name?"

"I'm using my real name, Rachel Adler. Like it?"

"Works for me." Irene grins. "Just be careful about name-mixing."

…

Next on the list of important things is registration. They don't realize it until they've been there for a few days, but they're supposed to sign a visitor sheet telling the government about them and their reasons for being in Amity Park. Since they can't exactly put down "Following a prophecy made by a six year old", they go with "For business." They aren't sure why they need to register to go anywhere, but it helps them into the environment. Strangely, 'for pleasure' isn't an option.

Rachel Adler, Teen Supermodel, makes it into the big leagues (so to speak) within a few days. She's pretty sure it's because Paulina is afraid to not keep tabs on her, but any excuse is a good excuse. Not long afterwards, she brings up the idea of a huge summer bash and persuades Paulina to throw one. She gets stuck with a lot of the decorating but in the end it works out. It'll be worth it as an introduction to the crowd of teenagers she has to pick a single mutant from. It'll be at her house and all the teens are coming. Rachel wonders how she'll put up with human idiocy for much longer (though social ranks are common in all cultures, with mutants it's based on power levels, not so much riches).

 **This is important information for my readers-make sure you see it!**

 **This is part of a two-part update. On the day after tomorrow-or something like that-I will post the other chapter.**

 **I have started a side story called Montage which will feature little snippets of life during, before, and after Hidden Phantom.**

 **I do need to put my education ahead of my writing, so I will not be doing/continuing VALKA for quite some time.**

 **That's all! Please leave a review and maybe a little bit of a snippet idea! This actually includes AUs as well as short pieces. I may also begin a little side story at some point in the same universe(basic setting, several events different) with a little surprise in it. It likely wouldn't be longer than 10 chapters. Oh, and to make you feel better about the wait, the next chapter is about 9000+ words excluding the AN, so about 17 Microsoft Word sheets at Calibri 11 font!**

 **-MialinK**


	39. AN: Apology

**Apology**

 **Readers, I need to apologize to you for being such a terrible author. This is a small chapter all its own in the hopes that you will read it and (possibly, if you are feeling charitable) forgive me for my lateness and inability to keep my promises. Every time I've tried to promise an update, I failed to deliver on the date I'd given you as the update date. This is especially so in the past six months.**

 **It was wrong of me to break my word to you.**

 **I should have either not promised dates or I should have kept my word. I did better when I forced myself to write a chapter every Tuesday.**

 **I can say it was my homework. That would be mostly true. I can say I was busy. That would also be partially true. Most of all, though, I was tired and I was procrastinating. I love writing Hidden Phantom but working on a story that will be twice the length of a novel by the time my coauthor and I are finished with it is extremely tiring. Before I wrote fanfiction, my longest story was 5 pages long in a lined notebook. It only finished because I got bored and killed off all the characters. This is a very different experience.**

 **The procrastination and exhaustion I felt led me to fail to log on to for a long time. The longer I stayed off, the more I became afraid of what everyone thought of me for becoming the author who fails to update a story. I avoided looking at any reviews and didn't even read any fanfiction for well over three months.**

 **I shouldn't have avoided the issue.**

 **I no longer have even the faintest excuse. I just finished finals for 4 classes and only have 2 ongoing ones. One will end in about four weeks, but I will be taking up two new classes beginning approximately this week. Nonetheless, those three (total) classes shouldn't stop me from writing this summer unless I stop myself, even if I get a job.**

 **I'm not sure how to start fixing the problem, though. There is the solution for Writer's Block (to keep writing), but I'm not sure that works when I'm tired. I'm not sure how to stop myself from being afraid of Flame Reviews for my stupid habit. I don't know how to motivate myself to find a great deal of interest in every chapter of Hidden Phantom.**

 **I need a regular date, but it can't be weekly at this point. I think Thursdays are the best days for that kind of date, but I remember Tuesdays better. Perhaps I can attempt to put up a chapter every other week on Tuesdays or even every three weeks.**

 **What can I do to make up for my many broken promises?**

 **-A Very Wretched MiaulinK**


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